


A Spoonful of Sugar

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bakery!AU, Dwori - Freeform, Multi, Thilbo, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 23,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin the baker may or may not have fallen in love with the golden-haired man who walks past his store each morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goldlust

Thorin ‘Oak’ Durin may or may not be in love with the golden-haired man who walks past his bakery window each morning.

Each day at the same time, the unassuming man would walk past on his way to work, a bag hitched over his back, smiling at the sky or something outside, never giving so much as a peek into the windows that Thorin stood behind.

It had been going on like this for several months now.

Every day at the same time Thorin would make excuses for being at the front of the shop when he didn’t really need to, and always found himself looking out the window, waiting for the short, curly haired man to stroll past, as he always did.

It was sort of like a drug, strangely enough. Some strange lust for the man’s golden hair.

The first few times he’d seen him it had been nothing, really. He’d noticed a shot of gold from the corner of his eye and turned to find a cute little thing walking passed.

He’d certainly _ogled_ , of course he did (which man in his right mind _wouldn’t_?), but when the creature had walked out of sight Thorin had returned to his work without a second thought.

But the more often the man walked past the more often Thorin found himself looking for that familiar shot of gold. The bright colour seemed to make his day go much better.

The few times he’d missed the man’s passing had resulted in his day turning out to be tumultuous and dreadful.

Thorin had never believed in luck, but it seemed like a better excuse to him than the other option: which was that his days had been bad solely because he was mad about not having seen the man that morning.

And the longer things went on, the more he found he couldn’t miss a morning, because he physically could not stand it.

So, like the addict he was, he would spend his mornings in the front of the bakery, doing what little he could in that section of the shop, his eyes always on the window- waiting for his hit of gold.

As much as he hated it, he had to admit he loved it as well, and came to find a shot of adrenaline in other things about the man, too: bright green eyes, like rolling hills in the countryside, or full, pink, tempting lips that were almost always curved into a smile.

He’d never spoken to the man before, though he knew who he was. Kili pointed him out one time.

_“That’s Bilbo Baggins!” He’d said eagerly, a wide smile spreading across his face. “He teaches my English class. He’s the best teacher ever, Uncle: he barely ever gives us homework and one time he helped me stick an old sandwich underneath the driver’s seat of Principal Thranduil’s car,” Kili broke into a paroxysm of giggles, his brother joining in._

Today was the same as every other day. He stood in the front room, sweeping a floor that had already been swept, wiping down the front counter, setting the fresh pastries in the display cases, eyes glued to the street outside the entire time.

And today, just like every other day, at exactly 8:15, a flash of golden hair caught his attention. He straightened immediately, looking out the window at the man as he walked.

Bilbo looked tired today, dark lines under his eyes, hair mussed. He yawned, pressing a hand over his mouth, and stumbled over a crack in the ground. And as always, he looked everywhere but inside the bakery window, which Thorin wished he’d do every now and again.

In some ways it was a good thing. Thorin knew he shouldn’t be staring and it would be best if this stayed as a solely one-way interaction.

An obsession with his nephew’s English teacher was the last thing he needed.

Though that didn’t stop him from wishing that just once Bilbo’s gaze would find its way to him, just for a split second.

He walked out of sight again and Thorin let out a sigh, going about the rest of his daily chores.

 

 


	2. Raining Men

It was cold. It was raining. Bilbo had forgotten his umbrella and his phone was dead.

He would have missed this blasted deluge of rain if it wasn’t for those damn boys. I mean, really, if they hadn’t snuck into the storage room to have it off, Bilbo wouldn’t have had to keep them behind after class and give them a stern telling-to. They’d begged him not to tell anyone, especially their parents, and they’d looked so desperate Bilbo had given a heavy sigh.

He liked Gimli, he really did, and Legolas was a good boy as well, so he’d been resigned to promise them what they wished for. Besides, he really didn’t feel like bringing boy's fathers in (who loathed each other more than words could describe, no less) and informing them that their sons were shagging like rabbits.

Bilbo felt a little lament at that. How could two sixteen year old boys have a more interesting sex life than him, a thirty-two year old grown man?

And anyway, he couldn’t really blame them, when the urge took your fancy it was really quite hard to ignore it. And they were young, hormones raging and all that. At least they were using protection.

He sneezed as he hobbled along the pathway, cursing the weather.  He wasn’t used to the constant barrage of rain that seemed to torret down endlessly in this place.

It was constantly like a Spice Girls music video, minus the men being rained down. Bilbo didn’t want any of the men in this town to rain down on him: they were all either straight or a little too lacking in the brain cell category for his liking. I mean, really, where were all the good men in the world? Were they hiding? Did Bilbo have some sort of sign that he couldn’t see, stapled to his forehead, blaring: ‘ _Run away! Run away!_ ’ in big, bold neon letters?

Bilbo began to wonder if he _should_ pray for one to fall out of the sky.

He trudged along miserably in the rain, just knowing he was going to get the world’s worst cold form this weather. He was soaked to the bone, never mind the papers he’d put into his bag to make tonight- they’d be unrecognisable by the time he got to them.

“Mister Boggins!” Bilbo turned, but only one person ever called him that.

“Oh, hello, Kili,” he sneezed loudly, thankfully taking refuge under the boy’s umbrella. “What are you doing out here in this weather?”

“I’m just off to work, Mister Boggins. Did you forget your umbrella?”

“I did, Kili, and you can call me Bilbo, I’ve told all of you that.”

“Oh, well, I like Boggins. It’s catchy: it sticks.”  It had stuck, unfortunately.

When he’d first started working at the high school, Kili had mistakenly read his name wrong on his timetable and had spent the first three days calling him ‘Boggins’ in all seriousness. Bilbo didn’t wish to cause embarrassment by correcting him, so he said nothing and Kili had continued as such until he had written his email on the board one day mid-semester.

_“ **Baggins**?” The word had rolled off of Kili’s tongue in confusion. His face was crumpled into a sweet frown.  “Who is **Baggins**?”_

_“That’s his_ name _, Kili.” Gimli had coughed under his breath and Kili’s eyes had widened._

_“It is?” Kili was a sweet boy, he really was, but he certainly wasn’t all there in his brain._

“Why don’t you come with me? Just down the road there’s a bakery my Uncle owns- I’m just about to start my shift there. I can get you an umbrella, if you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d hate to be a b-bother,”

“Come on, Mister Boggins. Might get you some coffee, too, while we’re at it. Warm you up.”

“Oh, well, I suppose...” he stuttered, teeth beginning to clatter together. The prospect of a nice hot drink was a tempting one, and he could attempt to wait out the rain, for the most part anyway, and even try to get his papers dry.

 

 

 


	3. A Nice Cup of Coffee

Bilbo had walked past the bakery every day on his way to work, but he’d never bothered to venture in. It was a warm, cosy sort of shop, a couple of cushy chairs set about the front room and a heavy smell of baking bread and coffee in the air. Bilbo felt his stomach growl.

“This is nice,” he said on a sigh, looking around him, “I walk past this place all the time.” Kili shook out the umbrella, hanging it onto a hook in the wall.

“I know,” he slid his jacket off, walking behind the counter and grabbing a white apron, tying it around his waist. He gave Bilbo a smile. “We’ve seen you pass by the window a couple of times.”  He leaned backwards, yelling into the next room. “I’m here for my shift!” there was a grunt in reply, and he grinned, turning his attention back to Bilbo. “So,” he said now, slapping his hands on the counter, “coffee?”

“Yes. That’d be lovely.” Kili set about making Bilbo’s order; machine clanking as he frothed the milk.

“I’ll just, uh... sit down here then,” Bilbo ambled over to one of the tables by the window, relaxing into the chair. “I don’t know why I never really noticed this place before,” he mused, more to himself than Kili, pulling his papers out of his satchel and shaking the water out of them as best he could. He sighed.

“This is going to be frustrating,”

Kili crossed the room and sat a large cup of delicious smelling coffee down. “Here you go- nice hot drink for you,” Bilbo looked up from his papers, offering him a smile.

“Thank you, Kili.” He’d certainly need it to get through all this work.

A deep voice rattled out of the back room, catching his attention. “I need you to unpack the latest shipment of coffee beans out the back,” boots squeaked and a figure stepped through the doorway.

“Sure thing, Uncle Thorin,”

He was a tall man, jet black hair streaked with the occasionally grey, pulled back out of his face into a ponytail. There was flour over his arms and hands and the legs of his jeans (particularly _form_ - _fitting_ jeans, which Bilbo found were a _great_ distraction). His shirt was fitted, as well, molding tightly across his broad chest and shoulders, his sleeves rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms. He was certainly a feast for the eyes.

Bilbo quickly glanced down to his papers again, red-faced and hyperaware of his rather _soft_ looking body. He fiddled with his pen before reaching for his coffee to take a sip.

...And pulled back quickly when the warm liquid spilled over his lips and down his throat, because by _God_ the drink was almost orgasmic, and the noise that Bilbo just barely restrained would have been very mortifying to make in public. He peered into the cup now.

“This is really good, Kili.”

The boy beamed at him. “Thank you, Mister Boggins!”

Bilbo winced at the nickname being used, his face heating even more.

 _Great_.

“Oh, Boggins, this is my Uncle Thorin. Uncle, this is Mister Boggins- well, _Baggins_ : my English teacher.” Bilbo glanced up at the man from under his lashes, offering a small, shy smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he’d never met Thorin before, though he’d heard about him. He knew Kili’s parents had both died a long time ago and his Uncle’s had taken him in, but he’d only ever seen Frerin during the parent-teacher meetings.

“You too,” the man looked straight at him as he spoke, his voice gruff, and after a moment returned to stacking the muffins in the display cases.

Bilbo gulped down a few more mouthfuls of the drink, ignoring the burn when it slid over his tongue and down his throat, and pushed the chair back, getting to his feet and gathering his things.

“I’d better get going,” he said now, suddenly very eager to get home, even if it meant walking in the rain.

He threw his satchel over his shoulder and made for the door.

“Hey, wait! Here, take this,” he turned to find Kili was offering him an umbrella.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t-”

“No, really. It’s fine. Just give it back to me tomorrow after class.”

“Well...” Bilbo tentatively reached out for it, “thank you. I appreciate it,”

“No problem, Boggins.”

He made a quick escape, shielding himself as much as possible from the rain and wind. Bilbo didn’t feel... right. He wasn't actually all that sure _how_ he felt right at that moment.

God help him, no one had ever made him feel so... _transparent_ before. Like he was see-through, made of glass: his whole person, his whole soul was on display for anyone to look at. And by anyone he meant specifically one person, one set of eyes: bright icy blue, eliciting shivers from him (and certainly not the bad kind).

Bilbo found he quite liked the look of those eyes, roaming over his face.

Though he wasn't sure if that was going to be a problem or not.

 

 


	4. The Fool

Bofur knew Nori was dangerous the minute he saw him. With a mischievous smile and a wicked glint in his eye, he set Bofur’s stomach into a spin, which was certainly not a good thing.

Time had passed and Bofur had learned to ignore the feeling, but just because he’d pretended it wasn’t there, that didn’t mean the feeling didn’t grow and spread: nesting and tangling through his heart and veins like some sort of tree, it’s roots so deep Bofur knew it would be impossible to remove them.

He shouldn’t fall for the black sheep of the group, he knew that, but he had a soft spot inside him that Nori’s impish grin seemed to touch.

Never mind that Nori never even seemed to notice him, despite his quiet longing. And why would he? Bofur wasn’t anybody interesting; he wasn’t someone fascinating– just a toymaker, and not a very good one at that. Nothing he made sold very well so he was forced to work to keep the bills paid.

He was hardly _interesting_ , not like Nori was.

And _oh_ , how Nori was interesting. He always had some story to share, some tale to turn, capturing the attention of anyone he ever spoke to. Bofur often found himself just staring like some sort of besotted, lovestruck fool: _and a fool you are_ , Bofur often chastised himself. He’d thought of that word often when Nori was around.

Fool.

 _Fool_.

 ** _Fool_**.

But when Nori grinned at him, or even met his eyes, Bofur couldn’t help but feel an unwise hope chorus through him.

Today was one of those days where his emotions were clashing against each other, torn between calling himself a fool and grinning stupidly at Nori, he pottered about the bakery, wiping down tables, handing out drinks and tripping over himself when Nori’s hand accidentally brushed against his.

Maybe he should leave, he probably really should leave. But he just couldn’t bring himself to. His friends were here: his brothers.  And Nori was here.

Besides, Bofur had realised a very long time ago that he would rather stay here and deal with that jab in his chest every time Nori smiled at him than leave and possibly never see him again. And that was a far worse fate than any unrequited love Nori could offer him.

Self-preservation be damned.

 

 


	5. Fond Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Rachel, who has been patiently waiting for some Dwori.

Ori delighted in what skills he had: being able to knit a proper scarf in little under a day, for one.  Or, for another, being able to sing the entire length of Bohemian Rhapsody completely in-tune to the high bits: it helped that he didn’t have such a low voice, and even being able to do the entire dance to Single Ladies by Beyoncé (...though _that one_ was a secret skill he only treated himself to when he was alone or in the bathroom in his underwear).

But one skill he did not have the delight in having was being good with people. Ori was a pretty shy guy.

Upon meeting new people, he usually spent most of his time looking at his feet, shuffling and mumbling occasionally.  Socialising was not a strong point for him.

So when Dwalin had suggested they attend Kili’s school play (where he was playing an _elf_ of all things), Ori felt more than a little apprehension.

He didn’t like the idea of crowds.

What if he accidentally trod on someone? What if they sat down and halfway through he needed to go to the bathroom and had to crawl over people? What if he got in the way of someone filming?

“Will you stop it with the face,” Dwalin rolled his eyes now, knowing exactly what his boyfriend was thinking. They were both still in bed, despite it being nearer to midday than to morning, legs tangled together, Dwalin’s hand in Ori’s hair. “We’re going and we’ll sit and watch he boy and you won’t have ter talk to anyone you don’t know.” Ori felt his stomach twist. “Come on,” Dwalin ran his hand down Ori’s back, trying to comfort him. “It won’t be bad.” That’s what he’d said _last time_. “The others will be there and if you think someone is trying to talk ter you, you can always hide behind Thorin. The glare is enough to chase the others away.”

Ori felt lips twitched a little, and he sighed. “Alright,” he said, a bit resigned. “I’ll go. But if I get nauseous and vomit on the headmaster again, you’re going to be the one who has to apologise and explain.”

Dwalin laughed: a low, rumbling, harsh sort of sound that Ori loved. “Fair enough,” he paused, “I still say the poncy twat deserved it.” Ori repressed a snicker and Dwalin gave a sigh, looking at the clock on the wall. “I’d better get going. Thorin needs help with the éclairs,” he untangled his legs from Ori’s and rolled off the bed, begrudging in his movements. “I’ll be back later this afternoon. You’ll be alright here?”

“Yes,” Ori stretched. “I have to work on my book anyway,” he had a number of patterns to get down for his knitting manual. Dwalin lent down with a smile and pressed his lips softly against Ori’s.

“I’ll see you later then.”

Ori hummed into his mouth, hands grasping at his big shoulders, then frowned when he pulled away.

“I’d better get going," Dwalin explained now. "If I stay here any longer you’re going to make me _very_ late.”

Ori grinned. “You wouldn’t mind,”

“I wouldn’t, no,” he agreed. “But Thorin might. He’d sack me for playing hooky just so I could have a nooner.”

“Pity,” Ori found himself muttering. Dwalin chuckled and grabbed his jacket, pulling it over his shoulders. “I’ll see you later then, enjoy the éclairs.”

“If I’m lucky I might sneak one or two without Thorin noticing.”

“You’d better not. He’ll have your hands if you do.”

“I suppose not. Dwlain looked at them now, considering it. "I am rather fond of my hands.”

“As am I,” Ori informed him.

Dwalin left the house laughing.

 

 


	6. A Curved Stomach and Stocky Legs / It's A Good Thing You're Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Bilbo and then a little Fili/Kili at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little blah while I figure out what I'm going to write next.

Bilbo spent the next week arguing with himself about whether he should back into the bakery or not. Which was silly because why should he argue about going and getting a bagel in the morning? It was something reasonable people did all over the world. Why was it such a problem?

Bilbo let out a sigh. _Thorin Durin_ made it as such, that was why.

He hated it, because each morning when he turned onto the street he paused, looking at the shop in the distance, his stomach clenching. Of course, there was nothing wrong with fancying a bloke. Bilbo had fancied plenty of people in his lifetime, and most of the time it had been unreciprocated. He’d learnt to get over it.

There was no denying that he was a little bland looking, that he knew already, and he never really got much attention in _that_ arena. But he saw no problem with that.

He figured if someone was going to love him, it would be for _him_ , not for how fine a figure he cut. And when someone loved him they would find him beautiful, even if he wasn’t pretty by social standards. But fuck social standards, Bilbo liked the way he looked: liked his wide eyes and shaggy hair; liked his slightly curved stomach and stocky legs.

 He liked _him_.

 _All_ of him.

Screw anyone who said otherwise.

But Thorin seemed to make him feel self-conscious in a way he thought he’d gotten over a long time ago. He was constantly glancing at his stomach when he walked past the bakery each morning, fiddling with his shirt buttons apprehensively.

He was mad for being so insecure, but at the same time he couldn’t blame himself. Strange attractive men had a habit of making you feel inferior whether they meant it or not.

He tried not to think about it as he made his way to the school. It _was_ a Saturday today, and we _had_ planned on sleeping in, but instead he was looking after the drama group practicing their play. None of the other teachers had wanted to look after a bunch of rowdy teenagers, so Bilbo had gotten stuck with the job.

Just his luck, of course.

 

* * *

 

“What if I do my lines wrong?”

“Then you’ll amuse the rest of us.” Fili flipped through the magazine, stretched out on his brother’s bed, watching him pace across the room in his nervousness, chewing his thumbnail in that cute way he always did. Kili frowned at his brother.

“Thank you," Kili replied dryly, "very encouraging."

“Well, just think about it this way: it can’t be any worse than George Bush’s reign was.” Fili scoffed and his brother stopped pacing.

“What do you mean?” Kili’s brow was furrowed in confusion. Fili laughed, throwing the magazine aside and crawling to the edge of the bed, setting his hands around his younger brother’s waist. He laid soft kisses along Kili’s jaw line.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Kili,” he murmured now, “because you are as thick as a post.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you even know who George Bush is?”

“Isn’t he the Star Wars guy?”

“That’s George _Lucas_. George Bush was the President of the United States for eight years. Pretty much responsible for the Iraq war.”

“Oh. Right, yes. Of course.”

“Definitely thick as a post,” Fili shook his head, chuckling. “Thank God for that arse.”

“Fili!” Kili batted his brother’s hand away, irritated. “I’m trying to concentrate on my lines.”

“Kili, we’re going to be late!” Frerin’s voice came from downstairs, making them both jump. Fili sighed.

“Looks like I’ll have to take my hands off you after all,” he fell back onto the bed, watching Kili shuffle around his room for his bag and his jacket. “Don’t forget your lines,” he teased as Kili left, delighting in the groan of irritation he received in reply.

 

 


	7. Competitive

Bilbo found the day utterly exhausting. After all, running about after a group of hyperactive teenagers wasn’t exactly his most favourite pastime.

And to think he could have been sitting down with a pot of tea and a good book.

“I think I’m in need of some coffee,” he found himself muttering, stifling a yawn. He’d all but been abandoned when he announced he needed help cleaning up, moving the props back into the cupboards, though Kili and Gimli had stayed to help him carry the heavier things.

_“Can’t have our Boggins breaking his back,” Kili had given his shoulder a hearty thump before moving to help Gimli pick up a box._

“Coffee?” Gimli queried now. “Kili makes the best coffee.”

“I noticed that, yes.” Bilbo replied. “I had some myself the other day.” Kili beamed.

“You do seem tired, Boggins. You could always come back to the bakery again and I can make you another- or Uncle Thorin. He's very good at making drinks. That goes for his pastries, too," he wrinkled his nose, "I can’t bake for the life of me.”

At the mention of Kili’s Uncle, Bilbo felt his face heat up and his insides twirl like some sort of baton competition was going on inside his stomach.

“I suppose a coffee would be nice...” he found himself muttering before he even realised what he was saying.

After all, his previous plans for his Saturday had been ruined when he was picked to look after the drama students, so why couldn’t he treat himself to some nice coffee (and maybe a bit of ogling)?

The coffee was really very good. The best Bilbo had ever tasted.

And, really, the nice view was just a bonus.

 

* * *

 

Thorin hadn’t been expecting Kili to show up to the Bakery today. So when the door had jingled open and his nephew’s cheerful voice had filled the air, Thorin frowned, and when he’d heard the name ‘Boggins’ he’d frozen, heart hammering in his chest.

Bilbo Baggins was back in his shop? Thorin had seen him walk past again these past few days, watching him with a morose, sinking feeling.  Mainly it was because when Thorin _had_ gotten his chance, he’d screwed it up and simply stared at the poor man, all possible words he could have said stuck in his throat. At least he hadn’t made a fool out of himself. No, he just glared at him, making him feel so obviously uncomfortable that he'd all but rushed out into the horrible weather.  How he’d wanted to hit his head against the wall for _that_. 

“Kili,” he came out into the front room now, dusting his flour covered hands off onto his jeans, feeling a bit self-conscious. He wasn't exactly in the best of states- flour through his hair and probably smeared over his cheek. Not to mention it was all over his clothes. Bilbo however was looking neat and proper and... well, positively _lovely_. “What are you doing here? Gimli, good to see you.” he nodded at the young boy now, who nodded in return. “How’s your father?”

“He's well, last I heard. Working hard in the mines, as usual,” Gloin worked very hard to keep food on the table for his wife and son, even if that meant disappearing hallway around the country for most of the year to dig in some godforsaken hole in the ground.

He glanced at Bilbo now, forcing himself to turn his eyes back to his nephew quickly, though he'd hardly wanted to.

But from what he'd seen in his glance, Thorin could tell Bilbo was tired. The deep, dark lines under his eyes said as much. Not to mention the man was yawning every ten seconds, which made Thorin want to yawn as well.Obviously the man _was_ in need of some coffee.

He ran a hand over what was left of his beard, cropped short to ensure none got in the food he baked (because _that_ certainly wouldn't be good for business), and listened to Kili reply to his earlier question.

“And we’re here because we finished practice.” Kili nudged his way behind the counter and beside Thorin as he spoke. “Mister Baggins is in need of some coffee so I suggested he should come by here and have another cup. He says my coffee is the best coffee’s he’s ever tasted.” Thorin rolled his eyes at his nephews grin.

“He’s never had my coffee then, obviously,” he replied in jest, which set Kili’s eyes ablaze. Though his grin widened at the words, so Thorin knew his expression was one of mirth.

“Well, I never!” Kili had put his hands on his hips, looking so startlingly like his mother that Thorin felt a little depressed. “I think Mister Boggins should decide, don’t you, Gimli?”

“Aye, I do.” Clearly amused, Gimli leaned against the counter to watch a rather befuddled looking Bilbo.

“Decide what?” Bilbo shuffled forward now, eyes curious but apprehensive.

Thorin swallowed.

He’d never been _this close_ to him before. He could almost reach out and touch-

“Why, whose coffee is better, of course!” Kili’s voice cut his amorous thoughts short. “I’ll make a cup and Thorin will make a cup and you can tell us which one you like better,”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re both fine. Really,” Bilbo fiddled nervously with the bottom of his jumper, and Thorin found himself repressing an almost overpowering urge to cover Bilbo's hands with his own, smoothing his fingers down his soft skin and easing his obvious tension.

Or maybe instead the urge to run his hand through Bilbo's golden curls instead, tousling them, winding them through his fingers...

His hand twitched.

“No, no, I won’t have that!” Kili was insisting now. “I’ll go first,” he nudged Thorin out of the way, which brought him closer to Bilbo, who was offering him a shy smile. Thorin swallowed, his throat feeling dry.

“Is he always so...?” Bilbo gestured at Kili now, who was frowning down at the cup, biting his tongue in concentration. That was the first thing Bilbo had ever said to him and it was about Kili of all people.

“Competitive?” Thorin finished. “Yes. Comes from having an older brother, I suppose.” God knew Thorin was competitive with his own brother. He had been with his sister too, Fili and Kili's mother, before she'd passed.

“Oh,” Bilbo glanced down at his feet, “I wouldn’t know about that.” Thorin felt like a cad, though he hadn’t precisely done anything wrong. But Bilbo’s forlorn look made him feel like he’d kicked a puppy or committed some other horrible sin.

“It’s very quiet in here today,” Gimli commented now, filling the silence.

“This morning was very busy," Thorin replied, "but it’s been a slow afternoon. Fili’s out the back sorting paperwork.”

“Fili’s here?” Kili almost knocked over the cup he was holding, a smile spreading across his face.

“Bofur couldn’t make it in so he’s filling his shift.”

“Fili?” Bilbo was wondering now.

“Kili’s brother.” Thorin replied, turning his attention back to the man to find that he’d taken a seat at the counter, elbows propped up on the hardtop, chin resting in his hands. If he hadn’t of been concentrating Thorin’s grip on the counter would have slipped, probably resulting in a bad tumble to the ground and _that_ would have been embarrassing.

“Oh, of course,” Bilbo said now, smiling. “I suppose I should have known, what with the name and all...”

“Fili’s great, Boggins, you’ll love him. And he'll love you!” _He'd better bloody not._ Thorin found himself thinking.

“I’m sure he's great.” Though judging by Bilbo’s expression, it was clear he was wondering how coping with _two_ of Kili would be. And it was sort of like having two of the same person. They were very similar, those boys. Sort of two halves of a whole. One didn't really function that well without the other.

“Here we go!” Kili set a cup of steaming coffee down in front of Bilbo now. “A cup of coffee that is far better than any Uncle Thorin could make.”

Bilbo reached out slowly, hands curling around the mug, and raised it up to his lips.

Thorin found himself watching very carefully as that same mouth wrapped around the edge of the mug, tentatively taking a sip before setting it back down, licking any stray drops of coffee off his now-slicked lips.

He groaned, but managed to disguise it as a cough. 

_Not good. Not good. Not good,_ he chanted to himself, trying to keep in his mind that it was certainly not appropriate to crawl over the counter and ravish his nephew's English teacher. Especially not with witnesses.

“It’s lovely, Kili,” Bilbo said now, giving the boy a smile that had Thorin feeling more than a little jealous, though that was a very childish way for him to react.

“I’m going to go get Fili now!” Kili announced with a smile, disappearing into the back room, Gimli following closely behind and leaving Thorin alone with the English teacher now.

He was just hoping he didn’t do something stupid. Like trip, or drop something expensive, or grab the poor man’s shoulders and jump on him like some sort of starving man.

He cleared his throat, moving across the counter to clean up the mess Kili had made.

It would serve as a good enough distraction for now. At least he hoped so.

 

 


	8. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

The next few weeks were a blur of rushing around, his spare moments between classes helping the Drama teacher Elrond make props and costumes or going over lines with some of the students. He barely had time to eat, and even then it was on the run. And, oh, he was so tired. Bilbo had always had a problem with sleep but it was getting increasingly worse as time wore on.

He yawned as class started, watching the students trample in, looking much in the same state that he did, worn. Mid-semester did that to you, he supposed. He got up from his desk when the bell rang for a second time, signalling the start of classes.

“Airtight, alright,” he waved the students down into silence. “Let’s get started. Would anyone like for me to read out the poems I asked you to do for homework?” Several hands shot up, one of the most eager being, of course, Kili. Bilbo had a feeling that couldn’t be good. “Alright, I’ll read it,” Bilbo picked the paper up and read it aloud with one raised eyebrow. “’Roses are red violets are blue I’ll... _pluck your arrow_ if you’d like me to’.” The whole class had burst out into laughter. “Kili, this is not appropriate.”

“You don’t like it, Mister Boggins?” Kili’s eyes were wide and innocent.

“Well, it’s a little short, isn’t it? Not to mention it’s not entirely yours.”

“Well, I made the jolly good bit about the arrow up. It took me almost two hours to come up with the pun!” Kili loved puns, and seeing as he was the school’s best archer, this particular one was all the more amusing. Not that Bilbo would admit that to Kili. He didn’t want to encourage him.

“Pun or no pun, you plagiarised the beginning of this poem.”

“But it’s a.... uh, thinggymabob?” Kili was frowning. “That ‘S-word’ you told us about that meant making fun of something.”

“Satire?”

“Yes! That’s the one: satire. It’s satire, Mister Boggins.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll let it slide,” though he knew Kili wouldn’t ever be able to explain _why_ it was satire. “Anyone else?” Bilbo asked, repressing a sigh.

This was going to be a long lesson.

 

* * *

 

Bofur was wiping down the coffee machine for the fifth time, watching Nori, Dori and Ori across the room, when Fili rolled his eyes, setting his book down and leaning over the counter at him.

“You could just ask him out, you know.” He said now, and Bofur felt his ears grow hot.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he glanced down, wringing the cloth in his hands.

Fili just scoffed. “You certainly know what I mean. Besides, if it’s him not liking you you’re worried about I can tell you that not five minutes ago when you bent over to get those cups out of the bottom cupboard he was staring at your-”

“Enough,” Bofur had never been so mortified in his life. “There are some things that I hate to say are just not your business, Fili, and this might be one of them.” 

“Well," Fili replied dryly, rolling his eyes, "then I’ll just leave you two to amble about on your own, seeing as you're both doing so well so far.”

Bofur hesitated. “Was he really staring at me?” he asked after a moment.

Fili grinned. “Certainly was.”

He felt a little better at that. Maybe Fili was right. Maybe he should just ask Nori. His pulse spiked at the very thought of it.

“Oh, look who’s back,” Ori smiled, peering at someone out the window. The door was soon pushed open roughly, jingling, and Thorin entered, slamming it behind him with more force than necessary.

Bofur watched as he stalked across the room, a scowl on his face. And though he scowled often, his mood seemed blacker today.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dori asked now, obviously thinking the same thing. “He’s crankier than usual.”

“Oh, just ignore him,” Fili said, talking over the top of his book, “Uncle’s just pissy because he’s totally in love with Kili’s English teacher.” Thorin whipped around so quickly it made them all jump, his glare falling onto Fili. “ _What_?” Fili just gave a shrug, having become more impervious to his Uncle’s glower the older he got. “I saw the way you were staring at him, making goo-goo eyes and everything.”

“You and the English teacher, eh?” Nori said now, grinning. Bofur couldn’t help but smile a little at the idea. “I didn’t know you went for the nerdy types.”

“Is he nice?” Bofur wondered now, thinking of the prospect of meeting someone new. If Thorin liked him he _must_ be nice. Thorin didn’t like many people.

“Nah, that’s not the question to ask. What I want to know is if he’s hot.” Bofur felt a twinge of jealousy at the words, and Thorin rolled his eyes, muttering as he stalked off to go check on the pies in the oven. “I’m taking that as a yes!” Nori yelled after him.

“He’s pretty cute, I suppose.” Fili answered for Thorin now. “Sort of like a mouse. You know, he’s like the town virgin people would delight in-”

“And that’s enough of that.” Dori planted a hand over Fili’s mouth, now in mother hen mode. “I will not hear any more,” slowly, he removed his hand.

Fili waited a moment or two before continuing. “If I fancied older guys I’d go for him.” Fili finished, earning a pointed look from Dori. “The teacher thing is kind of hot-”

“No one answered my question,” Bofur murmured now, pulling the edge of his hat down as he cut Fili off. Fili really only did it to make others uncomfortable, relieving the boredom he felt while his brother wasn’t around.

“Which was?”

“Is he nice?” he repeated.

“Oh, yes, very nice. I’m sure Kili’s completely in love with him.” Kili might not be the smartest person in the world; he was, to be honest, a little thick and extremely naive, which led to his brother having to take care of him more often than he should. But if there was one thing he was very good at it was knowing people, so if Kili liked him, then the teacher must be good.

 “So,” Nori clapped his hands together in excitement, “when do we get to meet him?” he heard Thorin groan in the other room at the prospect of Bilbo meeting them all.

He’d be groaning, too, if he were in the same situation.

 

 


	9. Fucking Romance

“Nori, what is it with your fucking hair?” Fili was looking at the birds nest now, forehead crumpling down into a frown.

“What about it?” Nori’s hands flashed up to his hair now, pressing on it as if he’d find something in it. It had happened before. Dori and Ori had once waited until he was asleep before lacing pencils and teaspoons an old remote battery through his hair. He hadn’t noticed until he went shopping an hour after he woke up, though how he hadn’t was beyond him. Nori had trouble realizing things sometimes.

“Does it not ever, oh, I don’t know, sit _normally_?”

Nori just gave a shrug. His hair sat the way it sat. What was the problem? Besides, not everyone was blessed with hair like the Durin boys. Fili and Kili had hair that sat and looked perfect without ever needing to tend to it much, they’d got it from their Uncle’s.

“At least Bofur’s got the right idea.” Kili told his brother. “If you’ve got mad hair, hide it with a hat.”

“He doesn’t have mad hair,” Nori thought Bofur’s hair was rather nice, especially his pipy-long-stockings plaits either side. Nori often felt the urge to tug at them, just to see how Bofur would react.

“You only think he’s got nice hair because you want to shag him senseless.” Kili said now with a grin.

“Your point?” Nori asked.

Kili shrugged. “No point. Just stating a fact.”

“You remember all your lines?” he asked Kili to change the subject. Nori didn’t really feel like talking to Fili and Kili of all people about wanting to bed Bofur. The two would just cause more trouble than they already did.

“I think so,” Kili frowned, going over them in his head. “I don’t have many. Mister Elrond says I’m on probation for last time.” Nori tried not to laugh at the memory of Kili’s last attempt at a play.

The door jingled now. “Knock, knock,” his brother’s voice floated through the bakery, and they turned to find Ori coming inside. “Nice weather we’re having,” he shook his head a little, trying to get some water out of it. Dwalin took up the space beside him (and a lot of space it was), looking just as frightening as ever. Nori always joked that Ori now had a boyfriend and a bodyguard all rolled up in one. Behind them Nori caught sight of Bofur, attempting to close a rather tricky umbrella. Nori grinned.

“Yer nervous, boy?” Dwalin gave Kili a hard smack on the back.

“A little,” Kili admitted. “But it’ll be fine, right?”

“Of course!” insisted Ori now, quick to answer.

“You’ll do great,” Bofur said with a grin.

“We’ll cheer for you.”

As Kili turned away, Nori shot Dwalin a worried look. If this went anything like _last_ time, it would certainly be interesting.

“How long ‘till we leave?” he wondered, checking his watch.

“Soon as we can, Dori’s shutting up out back, but we’ve got time for a cuppa if you’d like. We’ll meet Uncle Thorin and Uncle Frerin there.” Ori took a seat, gratefully accepting the offer of a hot drink. His nose was red and Nori could tell he was on the verge of getting a cold.

“ _Thorin’s_ coming?” Dwalin asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a place beside his boyfriend. Thorin hadn’t been to a school play since the boys were children.

“Of course he is,” Nori said now, getting up and grabbing some cups. “Ori didn’t tell you about the English teacher?”

“I did!” Ori said defensively. “Of course I did.”

“Oh, yes,” Dwalin ran a scarred, tattooed hand over his chin. “Boggins, was it?” Kili snickered.

“Sure is, Dwalin. Mister Boggins.”

“And we get to meet him tonight,” Bofur sounded delighted at the idea. Nori smiled simply because Bofur was smiling.

“Do you think he’ll like us?” Ori asked a concerned look lacing over his face now. Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“He’ll probably hate us,” Nori said now with a grin. “Everyone does. We’re a very annoying group, you know.”

“Just ignore yer brother, Ori,” Dwalin’s hand swallowed Ori’s now. “He’ll love you.”

“You think?” Ori’s eyes twinkled, and Nori felt like making gagging noises.

“Fucking romance,” he muttered, concentrating on the drinks.

 

* * *

 

“This had better go well.”

Bilbo looked up at Principal Thranduil, who was glaring at the stage now, bathed in lights. “I’ve been helping them practice, Thranduil, and I promise from what I saw it was wonderful.”

Thranduil just grunted a look of distaste on his face. “I hate parents,” he muttered now. “They’re always so... judgmental of each other.” Thranduil had a son, from what Bilbo knew, so he probably had firsthand experience with judge-y parents.

“Well, I can’t say I know what you mean, but some of the parents are horrors, I agree.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched into a smile at that. “Well, if you say it’s good, I suppose I’ll trust you.” It was the most of a compliment a person was going to get from someone very impersonal and distant like Thranduil, so Bilbo wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He smiled.

“They’ve all been working very hard. Especially Elrond.”

Thranduil would know this, though, as they were cousins, so Bilbo needn’t mention it, but he did anyway.

“Yes, he always puts in a lot of effort with these things.”

“He’s a good teacher,” Bilbo said with a smile.

“That he is.” Thranduil released a long, resigned sigh as more parents began to fill the hall. “I suppose I’d better start greeting people,” he muttered now, moving slowly away from where they stood at the back wall. “I often feel like some ridiculous king, giving dignitaries to people he hates but needs to be polite to for the sake of diplomacy.”

“I think you just described being a Principal anyway.”

Thranduil chuckled. “I guess I did,” he agreed over his shoulder, walking away. Bilbo stayed where he was for a little while longer, looking at the chairs as they slowly filled.

Soon he’d have to go back and help the others with their costumes. There would always be some sort of malfunction. Elrond said these things never ran smoothly.

God help him.

 

 


	10. "Better than last time..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is shit, but here you go.

The play had to be the worst thing in the history of worst things.

Thorin found himself wincing often, even when Kili wasn’t on stage, and knew the rest of the family were, too. Though he could see some of the other parents (the die-hard drama buffs) in the front few rows looking on with bright eyes and big smiles.

He tried, he really did, but he couldn’t help but grimace throughout.

But Kili didn’t break a prop, and he remembered all his lines, so afterwards he was received with a number of cheers, hair-tousles and slaps on the back, which was pretty much how far Thorin’s repertoire went.

“You did great, Kili!” Bofur grinned, engulfing the boy in a hug. Bofur was well known for giving the best hugs.

Just then, something jostled him, and a small voice spoke from behind him. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he turned to find Bilbo trying to politely push his way past.

“Boggins!” Kili’s grin widened. “Everyone, this is Mister Boggins!”

Bilbo looked positively frightened at the response he received. Thorin felt a little guilty, but the amusement he had far outweighed it.

He watched as the poor man was swamped by his friends and relatives, shaking hands and being crushed into an uncomfortably hug by Dwalin.

“You remember Uncle Frerin, don’t you?” Kili said when his brother shook hands with him.

“I do." Bilbo replied, smiling up at him.

Thorin felt a little lick of jealousy, but tried his best to ignore it. After all, Bilbo was a friendly sort of man, as was Frerin. But he had trouble remembering that. He also had trouble remembering that Frerin didn't actually  _like_ men.

"We met at one of the parent-teacher nights, didn’t we?” he asked now.

“We did indeed," Frerin replied.

There was a short silence before Bilbo spoke again. "Did you enjoy the play?” he pressed his hands into his jeans pockets now, still looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Oh, yes!”  Bofur said now.

“It went much better than last time,” added Nori.

“...last time?” Bilbo asked, confused.

Thorin remembered that the teacher had only been here since the start of this year, so he would have had no idea what had gone on before in the previous plays. Lucky him.

“Last time Kili was in a play three years ago he accidentally set fire to the wizard’s fake beard.”

“ _Set- fire_?" spluttered Bilbo, eyes wide. “How on earth did he accomplished _that_?”

“Yeah,” Frerin was rubbing a hand over his chin, frowning into the distance as he thought about that, “we don’t really know how it happened, either. They asked Kili not to do Drama anymore, after that.”

“Well, he did very well. You did very well, Kili,”

Kili beamed. “Thanks, Boggins!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the name.

“Oh," Kili grinned , "we’d better introduce you now. This is Bofur, Nori, Dori, Ori and Dwalin,” they were named and introduced so quickly that Thorin knew Bilbo hear any of them properly. “Bombur was going to come as well, but he had to stay home and look after Bifur.”

“So... you’re all family, are you?” he asked Fili, glancing shyly up at the rather large group.

“Some of us. Dwalin and his brother are cousins,” he gestured at Dwalin now, “and Ori’s pretty much family now- his brother’s sort of just hang around, though.”

“I’ll have you know I do a lot other than just ‘hang around’ thank you,” Dori looked miffed. Nori was just laughing. “They moved here a couple of years ago to keep in touch with Ori,”

“Oh.”

“And Uncle Frerin’s known Bofur for _ages_.”

“We went to school together,” Bofur explained now with a grin before giving Frerin a good-hearted slap on the back. Thorin pretended not to notice Nori glowering at the two of them. “I got my brother Bombur a job at the bakery.”

“He’s a really good baker,” added Fili. "Makes the best eclairs..."

"Not as good as Uncle Thorin, though!" Kili insisted, grinning at Thorin now.

“...and they need the money. They need to pay for Bifur’s care.”

Bilbo's brow furrowed. “Care?” he asked gently.

“He had an accident a few years ago," Bofur explained, "brain damage.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that,” and he genuinely did seem sad.

Bofur gave a shrug. “Can’t help it. What’s happened has happened.”

“But mostly everyone helps out around the bakery, though.” Fili mused now. “Part time work and all that.”

“And is Gimli just a friend or are you related?” Bilbo still seemed confused.

“Oh, we’re related,” Fili frowned. “God knows _how_ , though.”

Thorin wasn’t quite sure himself.

“Oh, well, it’s nice you’re all so close.” Bilbo’s face fell slightly for a moment, and Thorin wondered what he was thinking about, but the expression was squelched pretty quickly. “Did you enjoy the play?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Fili ruffled his brother's hair now, “No fires or anything.”

Bilbo laughed, and Thorin was left a bit dumbstruck at the sound. “Yes. I’m glad about that,” he did look particularly relieved.

“You guys have a canteen open or something?” Nori asked now, pressing a hand to his stomach. “I’m fucking starving.”

“Yes, just outside the hall,” Bilbo pointed to the doors, clearly not phased by the language, "there’s a tuck shop open.”

“Great!” he grabbed Dori in one arm, Bofur in the other, who blushed at the contact. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

“Yes!” Ori agreed, suspiciously eager even though he hated crowds, taking hold of Dwalin’s arm. Thorin, realizing what they were doing (and not all that subtly, mind you) repressed a groan of frustration.

“We’ll go with them, too." Fili decided. "Did you want anything, Uncle Thorin?”

“No.” Kili gave him a little nudge, pushing him closer to Bilbo.

“ _Go on_ ,” he mouthed.

Thorin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and watched them leave him to an awkward silence.

“Must be nice having lots of people to help you look after the boys,” Bilbo spoke finally, sounding tentative.

“Yeah,” he heaved a sigh, turning to the man as he spoke, “everyone really pulled together after the accident.”

Bilbo looked down at his shoes, and Thorin opened his mouth to say something else, but couldn’t think of anything. His mouth snapped shut again with a small click. He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the man’s bright curls, and just decided to get on with it. At least if he did it know he'd know for sure, even if it completely embarrassed him in the process.

_Screw it._

“Are you busy this weekend?”

Bilbo’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Oh, I, uh... not really, no," he shook his head slowly, "I have nothing planned.”

“Did you want to... go get a coffee?” his stomach twisted in nervousness, but the responding smile that lit up Bilbo’s face made relief course through him, though at the same time it also worsened the flipping feeling in his abdomen.

“I’d love to.” He announced now.

Thorin released this huge fucking breath he hasn’t realized he’d been holding in anticipation. “ _Great_. Great,” he cleared his throat, embarrassed at the ridiculous excitement that sounded in his voice when he spoke.

“I suppose I’ll just meet you at the bakery?”

“Yeah, uh, Saturday, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Bilbo shuffled shyly, but the smile was still on his face.

Thorin found himself still smiling like an idiot well after the others had returned and Bilbo had left to speak to some of the other parents.

Well, the night had certainly gotten better.

 

 


	11. A Blushing Bofur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Bori for your day.

“Do you think it’ll go well?” Bofur asked Nori as they sat in the bakery, watching Fili and Kili chatter incessantly to Thorin about his upcoming date.

Nori looked from the boys now to Bofur, an unsettling feeling in his stomach. “Why?” he forced a joking tone. “Jealous?”

“What? No,” Bofur scoffed. “I mean, sure, Bilbo seems nice, but...”

Nori watched as a lovely shade of pink began to tint Bofur’s cheeks. “But...?” he prodded teasingly.

“He’s not my type,” Bofur finished quickly, keeping his gaze away from him.

“And what is your type?” when he received no answer, Nori nudged at Bofur with his hip, teasing, “Come on,” he urged, “you can tell me, I can keep a secret.”

“I don’t know...”

“Oh, surely you do.”

“I suppose... funny,” Bofur answered finally. “Nice, maybe a little...” he cut off suddenly, making a choking sound.

“A little what?” Nori asked.

“Mischievous, I suppose.” The words came out in a mumble.

“Mischievous?” he repeated.

“Yeah," Bofur cleared his throat, "likes a bit of fun.”

Nori gave him a cheeky grin. “A bit of fun, eh?”

Bofur coloured further, spluttering, and Nori was finding he quite liked it. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he said, certainly enjoying the result. “If you’re upset no-one’s taking you for coffee, I can take you for coffee.”

The words slipped out, and he panicked immediately. All his talk about mischievous-men aside, Bofur certainly wasn’t the kind of person who would think about dating _him_.

“You’re serious?”

“Well, I...” Nori found that he’d traded places with Bofur now, spluttering and muttering. “I-I mean, if you, you know...”

“I’d love to,” Bofur blurted suddenly. “Of course, that is, if you...”

“No, no, no, yes,” his words were rushed, save Bofur change his mind, “I mean, yeah, that sounds... great,” he was grinning like an idiot now, but he didn’t care. “We can do something tonight, if you’re free.”

“Sure, sure,” Bofur was still red, looking down at his feet, or across the room, anywhere but Nori in his shyness. Nori wanted to reach out and kiss him. But he didn’t want to push it.

So he continued smiling and stayed where he was, turning his attention back to the boys, who were still pestering a highly annoyed Thorin.

And all of a sudden he was feeling a lot better, his day seeming a lot brighter than before.

 

 


	12. A Date

Bilbo was nervous. Obviously. Anyone could see it. He’d practically spent the whole day pacing and now that he was at the bakery, waiting for Thorin, he wasn’t feeling any better.

Fili and Kili were trying to make him feel better, having realised what was obvious to anyone who looked, by attempting to embarrass the other brother with old stories.

“Fili used to dress as a princess,” Kili said now, laughing loudly at the memory, “he’d dress up with the neighbours daughters and prance around. We’ve got pictures and everything,”

Fili, who was now red and flustered, turned to his brother in anger.

“Well, Kili used to love the Spice Girls.”

“Hey!” Kili cried, frowning at his brother.

“He knew all the lyrics and cried like a baby when they broke up.”

“It was a dark time for me!”

Bilbo found himself chuckling. “Alright, alright,” he said now. “I think that might be enough.”

The two boys exchanged a knowing grin.

“So, you excited Boggins?”

“Please just call me Bilbo,” Bilbo told him.

“Why?” Fili asked, leaning against the counter. “Boggins is a good name,”

_It really, really wasn’t._

“Bilbo is my name,” he said instead. “I’d like to be called it.”

“But Boggins is a good, strong name,” Kili declared now, “It sticks!”

“I’m afraid to say it does,” Fili agreed, nodding at Bilbo sadly.

“Enough of that,” Bilbo almost jumped at the deep voice that scolded the boys now. “You’ll leave Bilbo alone.”

“We weren’t picking on him, Uncle Thorin, really,” Fili insisted.

“We were just keeping him entertained until you showed up,” Kili finished for his brother, wide smile on his face.

Their uncle rolled his eyes now, turning his gaze onto Bilbo.

“Thorin,” Bilbo smiled a little nervously. “Hello.”

“Shall we go?” Thorin gestured to the door.

“Sure,” he slid from the seat and stood. Thorin rounded the table and they walked to the front door together.

“Use a condom!” Fili called after them when they stepped out onto the pathway, leaving Bilbo blushing and Thorin scowling.

“Ignore them,” Thorin said now, closing the door, “they like to make people uncomfortable.”

“I figured,” he mumbled.

They made their way down the street and further into the centre of town, occasionally mentioning something to the other (usually about the weather o the traffic), before they stopped outside one o the only small restaurants there was in town: _Beorn’s_.

When they entered they were met by a cheery short man who knew their names (though they didn’t know him), and were led to a table at the end of the restaurant.

“Someone will be by soon to take your order.”

They were left alone then and the need to fill the silence was evident.

“So... how was your day?” That was a good question, yes. Bilbo felt proud of himself.

Thorin shrugged his massive shoulders. “Work was... work."

“I suppose that means Fili and Kili were nightmares.”

“They usually are,” Thorin grinned slightly.

Bilbo smiled. “Kili can be absolutely harrowing to have in class. I’m glad Fili’s not the same age, having the two of them together in one place must be dreadful,”

“They’re very hard to control when they’re together. But they’re worse when they’re apart.”

A waiter came then, pen and notepad in hand, asking for their order.

“What about you?” Thorin asked as the man rushed off to get their drinks.

“Huh?”

“Your day?” Thorin prompted.

“Oh, my day," of course, "it was alright, I didn’t do much, really. It’s just nice to do nothing on my weekends- work exhausts me.”

“I know the feeling,” Thorin shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders. “I would have loved to have done nothing today, but unfortunately running a bakery means that you don’t exactly have regular hours.”

“Must be tiring,” mused Bilbo.

“Incredibly,” Thorin agreed.

They managed to chat with ease until the food arrived, which Bilbo was thankful for. He wasn’t very good on dates and he got the feeling Thorin wasn’t either.

 

* * *

 

It was well after dark by the time they’d finished eating and talking, and Thorin felt full and contented when they stepped out onto the street to go home. He’d never been one to like dates, but this had one surprisingly well. With Bilbo, it seemed, things were as natural as breathing... even if he did find himself unable to breathe around Bilbo at times.

They weren’t going in the direction of his house, above the bakery, Thorin realised now, but instead in the completely opposite direction, where Bilbo must have lived.

It was a rather nice night for walking. Cold, but not too much so, the sky was relatively clear and the stars were shining. If he were more of an ardent person he might say it was a romantic night.

But he wasn’t, so it was just a nice night rather than a romantic one. He lamented briefly that Bilbo might like amorous types, and he certainly wasn’t capable of that.

“Thank you for taking me out,” Bilbo said as they reached the street he lived on. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.”

Thorin wondered briefly about the others who would have taken Bilbo out, and repressed the ugly jealous feeling it evoked.

“Me, as well,” he replied with a small smile. “I never really had the time, and people always seemed so-”

“-not what you wanted,” Bilbo finished.

“Yes, exactly,” there was no need for Thorin to add that for the past year he’d been madly in love with Bilbo, who hadn’t even seen to him let alone spoke to him.

They stopped in front of his door. “Well, this is me,” Bilbo said now, turning on his feel to look up at Thorin. The place looked nice from what he could tell from the windows: warm and cosy and welcoming.

“Right,” Thorin wasn’t quite sure what to do now.

Romantic comedies dictated a goodnight kiss, but reality was hardly like that. He wasn’t that lucky; if he tried he’d probably get slapped in the face...

“Did you, uh, want to come in for coffee?” Bilbo asked tentatively, running a hand through his hair in nervousness.

_Hell yes._

“Or tea, maybe,” he continued, waving a hand dismissively, “I don’t know what you fancy.”

 _You._ _I fancy you._

“Sure, I suppose,” Thorin replied eventually, managing to keep the excitement out of his voice. Bilbo smiled and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “And tea is fine. I’ll drink anything,” he’d enjoy it, to, if Bilbo made it. Even if it was the worst drink he’d ever tasted, he’d still enjoy it.

Bilbo unlocked the door and led him inside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, instead of writing ‘pulled his keys out of his pocket’ I’d written ‘pulled his eyes out of his pocket’.  
> Thankfully, however, I checked over his before posting. It's a good thing I felt like editing. That would have been a bit awkward, Bilbo keeping spare eyes in his pocket like some sort of serial killer.


	13. Not Really a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Bori, Thilbo and some Fiki. Is Fiki even a thing?

It wasn’t really a _date_. Nori didn’t think it could be considered _that_ when they hadn’t even gotten out of Bofur’s house. They’d gone upstairs, sure, but other than that hadn’t moved at all.

Not that he was complaining.

He rolled over onto his side now to look at Bofur, who had fallen asleep now, exhausted, and felt himself smile contentedly.

It had certainly been a good night.

He rolled further around, curling his body around Bofur’s, and rested his face in the nape of his neck. Bombur would probably kill him when he found out, but Nori could deal with that later.

For now, he’d rest and enjoy the moment.

 

* * *

 

They’d really only had coffee. Bilbo had set the kettle on and moved about the kitchen, moving things and muttering to himself. Thorin had smiled and knew he wasn’t going to push the man into anything he wasn’t comfortable doing, even if it made him incredibly sexually frustrated in the process.

They sat across from each other at the table, Thorin watching Bilbo’s hands curl around his mug and pretending he wasn’t imagining those fingers curling around something _else_.

_Not good._

“So how long have you owned the bakery?” Bilbo asked now, looking sweet and curious and completely in need of being severely debauched. At least that’s what Thorin thought, anyway.

“A little while now,” he only just managed to make himself reply in time, “nearing ten years.”

“Wow,” Bilbo looked impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in one place that long before. Not since my parents died, anyway,” sadness flickered over his face but it was quickly shut away ad replaced by a too-bright smile. “But I really like it here,” he finished now, and Thorin’s stomach did a stupid little flip.

“It is nice here,” he agreed. “After my sister died Frerin moved here with Fili and Kili because it was much better here than where they were before.”

“How did it happen?”

“Car accident,” Thorin said the words, repressing the memories. “Kili was in the passenger seat. He still has nightmares.”

“How horrible,” Bilbo lamented.

“It was a while before he spoke to anyone but his brother.”

“They’re very close,” Bilbo said now.

“All but inseparable,” Thorin replied with a smile. “They’re very much two halves of a whole. Dis always said so.”

“Do you have any other family?”

“Not apart from the ones you’ve already met. What about you?”

“Oh, no, not really,” Bilbo looked down into the cup. “I hope this is alright,” he said now, lifting the cup up in a gesture, “it’s not exactly as good as what you lot make, but I never claimed to be a barista.”

Thorin chuckled. “It’s fine,” he informed the other now, allowing the subject change. “It’s perfectly adequate.”

Bilbo looked pleased, so Thorin was pleased in return.

“So,” Thorin said now, “did you really hide a sandwich in the principal’s car with Kili?”

Bilbo choked on his drink.

 

* * *

 

Kili woke up with a start, the sounds of glass smashing and tires screeching ringing hollow in his ears, a strangled cry on his lips and a long memory past flashing before his eyes.

His heart was thudding in his chest and his brain was working on overdrive, trying desperate to pull itself from the memory and remind itself that he was in his room and not in that car those years ago.

There was a ringing in his ears, but slowly it cleared, and only then did he notice his name being said by another, and hands on his shoulders. He looked to the side, away from the window to find Fili kneeling over him, trying to snap him out of his waking nightmare.

“Fili,” the word came out on a relieved sigh, and he was yanked back into his body, back into reality. Fili didn’t speak. He simply pushed his brother down onto the mattress, lowering himself on top of him and pressing their lips softly together.

When Kili’s body relaxed a little, Fili pulled back, pleased, and rolled off of him and onto his side. They stared at the ceiling for a while in silence.

“It’s been a while since you’ve had that nightmare,” Fili said, grasping his hand, their fingers entwining.

“I know,” Kili was bone weary, but he didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t want to. If he closed his eyes he’d see what he saw back then. “I think I’m just worried.”

“What about?” asked Fili.

“Bilbo,” Kili replied.

A brief pause, then: “Why?”

“Everything we love dies.”

“It won’t be like that.” Fili insisted, squeezing his brother’s hand. “I promise,” though there was no way he could keep that promise, it made Kili feel much better, and he relaxed. “Now get some sleep.”

“Okay,” he murmured, obediently closing his eyes. And with the reassurance of Fili’s warmth beside him, he had no more bad dreams that night.

 

 


	14. A Good Day

Bilbo had been in quite a good mood as of late. It had led to some of the family making bets about whether Thorin had actually gotten into his pants, but many of them thought not, if the tenseness in his posture was anything to go by. But he was in bright spirits as well, regardless of his obvious lack of a sex life. For now, anyway.

Kili enjoyed helping his brother in his quest to make their Uncle as red in the face as they could, which seemed to be easier to do when Bilbo was present. This, of course, led to Kili dragging his English teacher to the bakery after school to ‘help him with his studies’, which was a load of trollop. The others had said as much when they’d asked what was going on. But Bilbo, thankfully, played along, patiently going over the homework with Kili, who did have trouble with his English anyway.  So he didn’t think it was a total lie.

No one really minded, anyway. Thorin had never really taken an interest in anyone before, so there was that, but they all liked Bilbo quite a lot. Bofur had become particularly attached, much to Nori’s dislike. But Nori couldn’t be mad long, not when Bofur smiled and teased him, telling him he was being silly.

It was nice, Kili thought, and he hoped it didn’t end.

 

* * *

 

Nori had been right in his thinking that Bombur would kick his arse from here to Calcutta. He thrashed him within an inch of his life and would have continued on if Bofur hadn’t of stopped him, for which Nori was rather grateful for. He was kind of fond of his life; he was also very fond of Bofur. He’d said as much to Bombur, who had been ranting and raving about Nori having ‘taken advantage of his brother’s naivety’ and ‘destroying his innocence’. There had been fair bit of yelling, mostly on Bombur’s side, though a little from Dori as well, who had come into the argument to defend his younger brother, being the mother hen of the family.

Eventually, Bombur calmed down enough to let Bofur explain to him that nothing he could really say would change this, and that once he slept on it he’d realise this wasn’t that bad of a thing.

Bombur didn’t seem to be too agreeable on that.

“He’ll come around,” Bofur assured Nori a little while after as they sat out front of the house. Bifur was nearby, staring blankly off into the distance.

Nori laughed, shaking his head. “I really don’t think so.”

Bofur gave a shrug. “We can always be optimistic about it.”

“There’s a difference between being ignorant and being optimistic, and there’s a fine line between them in this situation.” Bofur rolled his eyes and Nori’s words.

“I suppose,” he admitted.

Nori, feeling a bit cheeky, reached out and grabbed his arse.

“Hey!” he cried, eyes widening.

“What?” Nori slipped his hand up, curling it around Bofur’s waist.

“Bifur’s here,” Bofur scolded, though it held no heat, “stop it.”

Nori glanced over at Bifur, who wasn’t even looking in their direction. “How is he?” he asked now.

“He has good days and bad days,” Bofur replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Today’s a good day.”

“It sure is,” Nori agreed with a small grin. Regardless of getting thrashed an inch within his life, it was a good day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Bilbo in the next chapter,


	15. Playing Cupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I may have lied when I said we'd return to Bilbo's POV in this chapter.

It was another three weeks of sporadic dating when Fili and Kili finally decided they needed to give the two of them a push.

So late one afternoon, while Bilbo was going over the weeks homework with Kili, Fili ‘accidentally’ spilled a large sack full of flour over the storage room floor.

“Unbelievable,” Thorin muttered under his breath, kneeling down to begin cleaning up the mess.

“I’ll go and get something to help!” Fili rushed off, back through the rooms and into the front where Bilbo sat with his brother.

“Hey, Bilbo, could you do me a favour?” he asked, and Bilbo looked up, cocking his head to the side.

“What did you need?”

“I just need a bit of help moving something from one of the back rooms, and I’d hate to bother Kili when he’s working so hard.” Kili snickered, but smothered it by twisting his head into his own shoulder. Bilbo’s eyes narrowed at the boys, but thankfully enough, he remained his usual naive self and agreed to help.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Kili,” he informed the younger brother, getting to his feet and following Fili through the back rooms.

He’d never been out the back before, so Bilbo seemed quite interested in what was around him. So much, in fact, that Fili was glad he didn’t notice something was up. He let Bilbo walked ahead, pressing a hand onto his shoulder and leading him towards the storage room. Then, with a quick shove, he pushed Bilbo inside, shutting the door and locking the deadbolt on the outside.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo stumbled back in the darkness, a little disorientated, and was not expecting a huge hulking form to be crouching behind him muttering. He tripped and fell backwards, landing on top of him with a loud _oomph_!

“Oh, I am _so sorry_.” He reached out, grasping blindly at whoever it was (now cursing). He froze when his hand met a thick wall of muscle. “Thorin?” he squeaked.

“Bilbo?” outside, they could hear giggling.

“Oh, dear,” this would certainly be interesting...

 

* * *

 

“Fili, you unlock this door right now.” Thorin growled through the wood, hand curling into a fist against it.

“I’m sorry, Uncle, I’m looking for the key-”

“There _is no key_. It’s just a sliding lock, you know that-”

“I’ll just go ask Kili where it is.”

Thorin swore under his breath as Fili’s footsteps faded.

“So,” Bilbo gave a little laugh, “I suppose they’re not going to let us out anytime soon.” Thorin turned around, and though he couldn’t actually see Bilbo, he was acutely aware of his presence in every detail.

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

“I’ll skin them when I get out.”

“They’re just being silly boys,” Bilbo defended, though there was no real heat to the words. Clearly he was annoyed as well.

If there had been more space in the storage room he would have been pacing. “I’ll still skin them,” he heard Bilbo chuckle softly, which calmed him a little, he had to admit. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Little cramped, though,” Bilbo shuffled a little.

Thorin knew the feeling. Though he didn’t mind being cramped with Bilbo of all people. It wasn't the worst fate he could imagine...

In fact, as of late he’d been thinking about them a lot closer than _this_. He tried to direct his mind away from _those_ thoughts.

Now was certainly not the time.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about this,” he said now, staring into the darkness where he knew Bilbo was standing. “They like to cause trouble...”

“I know that already.” Bilbo heaved a sigh. “We’ll just have to wait them out, won’t we?” That might be a while, yet, though Thorin couldn’t find himself lamenting over that.

“Might as well get comfortable,” he leant against the door and slid to the ground, stretching his legs out. “There should be enough room for the both of us...”

Bilbo lowered himself to the floor as well, legs nudging at Thorin’s. “I can fit almost anywhere,” he informed him now, and Thorin could hear the smile in his words. “I am a little on the small side.”

“You are rather short,” Thorin agreed.

Bilbo chuckled, and he felt himself warm at the sound. It was a nice sound. Comforting, somehow.

And Bilbo was so close; Thorin could feel the warmth rolling off him in waves. Feeling daring, he reached out and snagged Bilbo’s arm, running his fingers underneath his sleeve, tracing patterns up the soft skin there. Bilbo shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“No, no,” Bilbo insisted. “I’m fine. Do you think they’ll let us out any time soon?”

Thorin moved a little closer. “Could be ages before they decide they’re bored with it.”

Bilbo hummed. “Silly boys,” he murmured now.

“Very silly,” Thorin agreed, feeling the other move a little closer. Something inside him flipped at that.

A tentative hand touched his, soft fingertips over his rough skin and his nerve-endings were set alight.

 _To hell with it_ , he decided and a moment later he’d pushed himself forward, lips connecting with Bilbo’s. The soft pressure was enough to drive him mad and he groaned loudly when Bilbo shuffled forward so their bodies could meet, arms wrapping around his neck, and deepened the kiss.

His hands grasped at Bilbo’s waist, clutching probably a little tighter than necessary at his shirt, but he didn’t care. He swept his tongue into the other’s mouth, tilting his head to further his exploration. Bilbo made a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat when Thorin nipped gently at his lower lip.

“It’s about time!” Kili called from the other side of the door, and Thorin felt Bilbo stiffen in his arms.

“Go away,” he barked through the door. “A little privacy would be nice.”

“You’re not going to get any, not while we’re around.”

Thorin sighed loudly, slowly releasing Bilbo. “Are you going to unlock the door now?”

“You sure you want me to?”

“I swear to God, Fili...” at his growled words, the bolt was slid open, but they were smart enough to keep the door firmly shut. “Good. Now get back to work. I don’t pay you to play Cupid.”

“You should,” he heard Fili mutter as he and his brother walked off.

Thorin turned his attention back to Bilbo. “Where were we?”

Bilbo laughed a little at that. “I think we were doing something rather important...”

“I think I’d agree with you there,” Thorin agreed, leaning back in to kiss Bilbo again.

 

 


	16. Not That Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Mozzarella, who wanted some Bilbo finding out about Thorin's slightly stalkerish ways.

Bilbo had spent most of the day with a headache, and this afternoon broached no change. So his scolding of Gimli and Legolas for the fifth time this week was short but a little more vehement than usual.

“I mean, _really_ ,” Bilbo was saying now. “Can you not just do it somewhere that’s not on school grounds? The teachers and students don’t need to hear it, or see it.” He rubbed hand over his face. “If this continues you know I’m going to have to tell your parents. I said that last time,” both boys looked sheepishly down at their feet. He was too tired for this, he needed to go home. “Why don’t we just chalk this up to a bad day and you two can promise me you’ll _try_ to keep your hormones in check.” He said now, trying not to smile at the resulting smiles he gained.

“Yes, Mister Bogg-Baggins.” They nodded eagerly.

“Now, go,” he waved a hand at them, shooing them away. “I need to get home, and you two do as well.” He packed his things up and slung his bag over his shoulder, getting to his feet and leaving the room.

He kept his eyes on his sore feet for most of the journey, and as he passed by Thorin's bakery the door was swung open, and Kili and Fili burst out of the door, singing a chorus of: “ _Boggins_!”

“Hello, boys,” Kili’s face fell when Bilbo kept walking.

“You’re not coming in today, Boggins?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m very tired and I have a very bad headache, so I’m going to go home and relax. I’ll see you tomorrow though, at school.”

“Oh,” Kili bit his lip, “okay then.” Bilbo felt guilty, though he knew he shouldn’t. After all he was allowed time to himself.

He slipped his shoes off with a contented sigh when he got home, delighting in the way the carpet felt against his bare toes. A cup of lovely tea and bed, he thought. Maybe a little television to calm him down first.

He was just in the process of taking a sip of said lovely tea when there was a heavy distinctive knock at the door.

He waddled over, feeling very much like a pregnant woman, and opened the door to find Thorin standing there, which really didn’t do wonders for his self-esteem. Even covered in flour and looking dead tired, Thorin still looked absolutely wonderful.

_The bastard._

“We were going to go out...?” Confusion was written all over his face.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh,” Bilbo pressed a hand to his face. It had totally slipped his mind. “No wonder Kili looked so confused when I walked past.”

“I was a little confused, myself.” Thorin replied with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry Thorin,” Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long day and I’m very sore and tired. Come in?” Thorin obliged, stepped inside, slipping his jacket off.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,”

“You don’t mind just having a cup of tea?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

“That sounds fine,” Thorin smiled at him.

“The kettles just boiled, so I’ll make you one. Have a seat.”

Thorin gratefully sank into a chair in the living room, positively dwarfing it, and ran a hand over his face. “It seems we both had similar ideas,” he said now, stretching his legs out in front of the fire. “I was rather keen on a quiet night in, I was going to ask you about it when we met for dinner.”

“Great minds think alike,” Bilbo hummed, bringing him his drink and dragging another chair over so they could sit side-by-side.

“You alright?” Thorin asked when he winced.

“Just very sore,” Bilbo gave a small smile.

“Let me help,” Thorin reached down, grabbing hold of Bilbo’s ankle, and pulled Bilbo’s foot up onto his lap.

“What are you-? _Oh_ ,” the pressure of his small fingers on just the right place in his aching foot made him groan loudly. “That is _wonderful_.” Thorin chuckled.  “I think I walk too much,” he murmured now, letting his eyes drop closed and his head fall backwards onto the back of the chair. “Maybe I ought to invest in a car,” he had a licence, but he’d never thought about getting a car when he could just walk to work.

“No,” he could hear the frown in Thorin’s words. “We wouldn’t see you walk by every morning, it wouldn't be right.”

“You see me walk by every morning?”

“Well, yes. You always come by at the same time, I noticed a long time ago.”

Bilbo’s eyes open now. “You did?” he asked, head titling curiously to the side.

Thorin looked embarrassed. “Well... yes,” Bilbo shrewdly narrowed his eyes.

“You _watch me_ _every morning_?” he queried.

Thorin winced. “Yes.”

“ _Every_ morning?”

“Yes,”

“That seems a bit... stalker-ish.” Thorin took offense to that.

“Well, it’s not like I followed you down the street or anything," he argued, defending himself. "I just noticed you happened to walk past the bakery at the same time every morning- there’s nothing stalker-ish about that.”

“I don’t know...”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I was not stalking you. I was just... over-perceptive of your presence.”

Bilbo found himself snorting a laugh. “Fancy way of saying stalking, I think.”

Thorin sighed and Bilbo chuckled a bit more. “As long as you never followed me home, I think I’m fine with it.”

“I’m not that bad,” Thorin went back to rubbing at Bilbo’s sore, swollen feet.

“No,” Bilbo agreed with a smile. “You’re not.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I got some ideas forming, thank God, so maybe some stuff will happen soon.


	17. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a Dwori interlude while I work on the next chapter.

Dwalin liked Ori like this. Spread out on the bed before him, content and sated.

“Did you hear about Azog?” Ori murmured, turning on his side to look at Dwalin. Frankly, Dwalin couldn’t give two shakes of a rats arse about Azog, but he indulged Ori anyway, drawing patterns along his arm.

“What about him?” he asked.

“He’s had to close his bakery.”

“Has he?” _It’s about bloody time_.

“Yeah," Ori sighed now, "heard him yelling something about Thorin stealing all of his customers,” Ori gave a pause, shrugging. “It’s not Thorin’s fault he’s a better baker.”

Dwalin chuckled. “Azog’s never been very good. He blames us every time he burns a batch of cookies. Not that they were very good in the first place...”

“He does have some anger issues.” Ori agreed now.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t try anything. I’d hate for a fight to break out in the bakery,” _at least not when he wasn’t there to take part in it, anyway._ Ori narrowed his eyes, obviously knowing what he was thinking. He sat up, looking at him shrewdly.

“You’d better not get into any fights,” he scolded now, pointing a finger at him. Dwalin caught his hand, entwining their fingers.

“I promise I won’t start any fights.”

Ori groaned in frustration. “That’s not the same thing as getting into a fight.”

Dwalin just grinned. “Come ‘ere,” he wrapped his arm around Ori’s waist now. “We’ve got an hour before I have to go help Thorin out.”

Ori squealed with laughter as Dwalin rolled on top of him.

 

 


	18. Azog The Baker

“So he’s trying to _sue_ you?” Bilbo asked, frowning into his hand as he watched Thorin make another round of coffees for the customers.

“He feels that his lack of customers has been the result of some sort of sabotage by myself- God knows what he thought I did to achieve that, though.”

“Well, he certainly won’t get very far, will he? You didn’t do anything and he can’t prove otherwise.” Bilbo paused. “You didn’t do anything, did you?”

“Of course not: you don’t think I can handle a little competition?”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

The door was pushed open with a jingle now and Dwalin came inside. “Sorry,” he groused, jogging across the room to begin helping Thorin. “Lost track of time,”

“Sure you did,” Fili rolled his eyes as he walked past, tray full of empty cups in his hands. Bilbo repressed a snicker. Dwalin just glowered at the boy and reached for an apron. “Shouldn’t you be attached to your brother’s hip or something?”

“He’s got a cold,” Fili replied snidely, though he seemed concerned.

“He’ll be fine, Fili.” Bilbo assured him with a smile, pressing the cup to his lips. Fili gave a small nod, looking appreciative, but not all that convinced.

“What were we talkin’ about?” Dwalin asked now, putting fresh cupcakes into the display case.

“Just Azog.”

“Ah, heard about that this mornin’, he causin’ trouble?”

“Trying to,” Bilbo said now, finishing what was left of his coffee. “Failing miserably, though.”

Dwalin chuckled. “No surprise there. That fella’s been failing miserably all his life.”

There was a ding somewhere in a backroom and Thorin looked over his shoulder.

“I’d better go finish those loaves I was baking.” Thorin said, setting the last coffee down for Fili to take. “Fili, these are done.”

“Okay,” Fili grabbed the tray as Thorin disappeared out the back.

Bilbo stayed in his seat, fiddling with his cup while Dwalin finished putting the cupcakes out.

“Why don’t you go help him?” Dwalin suggested, dusting his hands now. “It’s busy, so he could use a hand we’ve got it under control out here.”

“Well, I suppose I could help...” Bilbo was sure he’d only be a nuisance, though. He got to his feet and padded around the table before going into the back room.

Thorin was standing at one of the counters, shirt rolled up to his elbows, his forearms covered in flour. His fingers rolled in the dough, kneading, and Bilbo found himself rather distracted by the sight of the whole thing. By the way Thorin’s muscles moved; how his hair hung heavily, his ponytail swept back over his shoulder to keep it out of the way, the concentration on his face as he worked at the dough. Bilbo swallowed.

“Is something wrong?” Thorin asked with a furrow in his brow, noticing his him.

“Oh, no,” Bilbo stepped forward a little, ambling. “Dwalin said you could use some help...”

“Ah,” he grinned. “Well, come on then,” he nodded towards the counter. “Wash your hands first.”

“Right, of course,” he watched Thorin while he cleaned his hands, openly appreciating the snugness of his shirt and jeans while Thorin’s back was turned. He really was very attractive.

He dried his hands off and made his way back to the counter. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

“You know how to knead dough?”

“I think I can do that,” Thorin lifted his hands up.

“You can work that, then, while I make another batch of those cookies.”

He began to knead the dough the way he’d seen Thorin doing it, rolling and stretching it out heavily before flicking it over itself, kneading it in again. Very quickly he could feel the burn to the muscles in his arms.

“This is certainly an intense arm workout,” he muttered now, more to himself, but Thorin chuckled.

“It is, yes,” he agreed.

“I can see why your arm muscles are so...” he broke off with a choking sound, realising he shouldn’t have said that part out loud.

“So...?” Thorin queried, moving closer.

Bilbo blushed furiously. “Well, you have muscular arms, I can imagine after doing this for some time would result in that.”

Thorin chuckled again. “You have very nice arms as well.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but felt himself redden further at his words. “You flatter me. I do not.”

“You certainly do,” Thorin stopped stirring, sitting the bowl down now and moving to stand behind him. Bilbo felt his chin rest atop his head.  “Nice and smooth and soft...” His hands ran over Bilbo’s forearms, trailing flour over his skin. The touch made him shiver. “Lovely,” he murmured, leaning down to nip gently at the tip of Bilbo’s ear.

He made a keening noise, shuffling backwards so their bodies pressed together. Thorin’s hands slipped up his arms and wrapped them tightly around his waist, urging him closer, before slipping down to sit over the curve of his belly.

Bilbo arched, tilting his head to the side and exposing more of his throat, and Thorin’s lips lavished attention at the curve of his neck as he ground incessantly against Bilbo’s backside.

Heat pooled in his stomach and Bilbo grabbed hold of Thorin’s hands, pressing a little harder into his back to add pressure.

Thorin mumbled something indecipherable into his skin and began to push him in the direction of the storage room.

Bilbo tugged at his hair, earning a deep, rumbling groan.

“Uncle?” They jumped apart like guilty lovers, finding Fili standing at the door, watching them in amusement. “Azog’s here.”

Thorin’s head snapped in the direction of his nephew. “ _What_?”

“Says he wants to talk to you.”

“Great,” Thorin groused, cursing.

Bilbo was thinking much the same.

 

 


	19. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azog is PMS'ing.

“If you’re going to cause a scene could you not do it during the rush hour?” Thorin asked calmly, hands crossed tightly over his chest. “You’re likely to scare the customers away.”

Azog’s face twisted furiously into a snarl. “Customers _you stole_!” he spat.

“We did no such thing,” Fili replied with a roll of his eyes. “These people chose to come here for the simple reason you won’t accept- your bakery sucks. Well,” he broke off with a laugh, “suck _ed_ , I should say. You’ve had to close.”

“I’m assuming you’re here yelling because your lawyer told you that you have no case against us because we’ve done nothing,” Thorin said now.

“You did do something, and you’ll pay- by hell and high water I’ll make you regret crossing me!”

Thorin, a picture of calm and tranquillity, uncrossed his arms, face composed and posture as relaxed as ever. “If you continue to act aggressively we’ll call the police,” he informed Azog gently, “and I really don’t think you want your day to go any worse than it already has, do you?”

“That was like something from a Soap Opera.” Dwalin said as Azog stormed from the bakery, leaving shocked and scared customers in his wake. “We’d better keep an eye on him; he might try to do something like poison his evil twin brother.” Fili snickered.

“You didn’t yell or anything.” Bilbo said now, moving further out into the front room now.

“Of course I didn’t. If I’d yelled the customers would have surely ran.” Thorin grimaced. “Though I was more than a little irritated at him interrupting...”

Bilbo grinned, feeling his face redden at the thought.

“Later,” he promised, slipping around the counter. “I’d better get home. I think I’ve had enough excitement for today.”

“I’ll come see you later,” Thorin promised.

“Okay,” Bilbo replied with a smile before leaving.

Thorin did indeed come to see him later. The sun was setting and a chill was setting in, regardless of the fact that it was spring. More than once this season Bilbo had put the fire on during night to keep himself warm, though thankfully tonight wasn’t as cold as that.

“You hungry?” he wondered, moving into the kitchen.

“Not really,” Thorin replied, following him.

“Cup of tea?”

“I’d fancy something a bit stronger, if you have it,” Bilbo watched him roll his shoulders, trying to relax, “It’s been a stressful kind of day.”

“Of course,” Bilbo reached into the top of the pantry, having to stand on the tips of his toes, and Thorin chuckled at him. “Don’t laugh at the misfortune of others,” he scolded now, a frown on his face as he pulled down the whiskey he kept there for when he felt the fancy take him.

“You have my apologies, then.”

“Very sincere of you,” Bilbo replied dryly as he poured a good measure of the whiskey into tumblers. He pressed one into Thorin’s hand, delighting in the contact of rough skin against his own. “Did Azog come back?”

“God, no,” he scoffed. “He’s stupid but not that stupid.” Thorin took a rather large mouthful of the drink, unflinchingly. Bilbo winced at the idea of doing so himself and instead sipped gently.

“You think he’ll do anything crazy?” he wanted to know.

“No clue." Thorin shrugged. "But we told the police about the threat so if anything happens they’ll know where to look.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t set your car on fire or anything,” Bilbo mused.

“Fili would be devastated,” Thorin replied. “I promised him I’d pass it on when I get a new one.”

Bilbo laughed into his glass.

“How’s Kili?”

“Still feeling under the weather, Fili ran home to go mother him when I let him off work early.”

“They’re very close.”

“They are," Thorin agreed. "But that happens when you share a loss like they have.”

“It’s good that they have each other. And you and Frerin, of course,” Bilbo hastily added.

“Frerin’s busy with work a lot, so it’s hard to find him when you need him, and I’m not very good at talking anyway, so at least they can talk to each other.”

Speaking of work... “You seem to be even more popular as of late.” Bilbo commented now, taking another small sip of his drink.

“Ah, yes, we have been getting a few more than usual. Bombur won a bake-off a few days ago and everyone’s coming in to try his now-famous cookies.”

“You think his are good, you should have some of mine.” Bilbo murmured.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes, best in the world,” he stated proudly, “at least, that’s what my mother always used to say. She’d make them every Sunday. It’s an old Took recipe, passed down for generations.”

“You could try to give Bombur a run for his money, if you’d like.”

“I’m certainly not a baker,” he replied now, chuckling at the scandalous look that would wash over Bombur’s face if he ever lost the title. “And they certainly don’t taste anything like my mother’s," he added, lamenting a little. She’d always been the best cook in the family while Bilbo had trailed behind, struggling.

“Well, maybe you can just show me, then.” Thorin paused. “That’s probably for the best anyway. Dwalin devours the things in batches, even if they're hot. Scoffs ‘em down and ignores the burnt tongue.”

Bilbo laughed loudly. “I can imagine that.”

Their drinks were downed fairly quickly, and the conversation simmered down to a murmur every now and again. Bilbo rested against his hand sleepily, keeping himself propped up on it, elbow resting painfully against the table.

“Do you have open early tomorrow?” he asked now, eyes drifting closed.

“Yes,” Thorin’s answer was more a hum than anything else.

“Pity,” Bilbo replied. “Or else I’d have asked you to stay the night.”

“I can still stay,” Thorin’s reply came almost immediately, and Bilbo smiled.

“And go to work in the same clothes?” he clicked his tongue, “How scandalous that would be.”

“I live above the place, you forget. I can change before I open shop.”

“Such logical thinking.”

Bilbo didn’t have to open his eyes to know Thorin was grinning.

“Well, I suppose you can stay the night," he said now, drawing the words out lazily. "The couch is really very comfortable...” he opened his eyes and laughed at Thorin’s disgusted expression. “Come on, silly,” he got to his feet and grabbed hold of Thorin’s wrist. “Bed time.”

 

 


	20. Do Something About It

Bilbo felt delirious with pleasure, loving the feel of Thorin’s rough hands along his skin. Clothes were removed in haste and thrown across the room, quickly forgotten, and all of a sudden Bilbo was on the bed, Thorn’s heavy weight sinking down and settling on top of him, pushing him further into the mattress. His hands fisted into Thorin’s hair in a probably painful manner, but neither one of them complained. Their lips connected, trailing sloppy kisses in their eagerness.

He squeaked suddenly, realising he had nothing for the occasion, and pulled away to speak. Thorin continued kissing him, however, lips pressing down his neck and collarbone.

“What?” Thorin grumbled into his shoulder.

“I don’t have anything...” he replied rather breathlessly. No need to add that for a very long time he hadn't _needed_ anything. Thorin muttered something in reply, pulling off him and pulling his jeans off of the floor.

“I’ve got it,” he assured him.

“Awfully prepared, you are.” Bilbo teased as he saw what Thorin had brought along with him. “A little too sure of yourself, don’t you think?”

“I’m all about prudence.” Thorin clicked his tongue, returning to Bilbo’s side. “Roll over,” Bilbo obeyed, shifting to lie on his stomach, and let out a small whimper when a lubed finger trailed over the top of his thigh. “You have to plan ahead, you know.” Thorin continued now, caressing the soft, fleshy mounds. Bilbo made a quiet keening noise, rocking when a slick finger entered him. “Preparation is important.”

Unable to formulate a reply, he just continued to moan, rocking backwards.

Thorin chuckled, climbing to straddle him. His thick thighs pinned Bilbo's legs to the mattress, and added another finger, stretching him. Bilbo was bucking helplessly, openly crying out, aching for more. Thorin leaned down, tongue flicking out to trace around the shell of Bilbo’s ear before lightly catching it in his teeth. He arched, and Thorin’s fingers slipped out of him, taking place tightly at his waist, fingers grasping at his hips. Bilbo whined at the loss, but broke off with a groan when Thorin slid his length inside of him. He paused for a moment, so they could both take gauge, so Bilbo could acclimate himself to the stretching feeling. After a moment, though, he let out a strained groan and started to thrust gently, obviously trying to control himself.

Bilbo’s hands fisted into the sheets, delighting in the movement, arching and turning his head to the side so Thorin could bite at the nape of his neck.

The pain shot through his body, setting his blood alight with desire, and his hands tightened further into the bed linen.

The scent of an infusion of sweat and sex permeated the room, inhaled harshly with their panting breaths, gasping for air, and Bilbo felt his release begin to wash over him, his moans becoming more vocal. His chest ached, desperate in its need to suck in as much air as possible. Thorin must have been close as well, because he let out a deep, shuddering moan, his thrusts turning erratic and unrestrained.

It was all Bilbo needed, and he was soon moaning Thorin’s name, his body tensing and arching further as his orgasm rocked through his body.

Thorin came now as well, crying out, spilling his seed inside of Bilbo before collapsing on top of him, crushing him further into the mattress. The heat of Thorin’s body kept him warm for some time before the cold air started to make him shiver. In response, Thorin rolled off of him, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over them, before snuggling close once more.

“So,” Thorin hummed now, “cookies?”

“Tomorrow, but only if you make the coffee,” Bilbo replied sleepily, burying his face into Thorin’s shoulder.

The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was Thorin laughing softly.

 

* * *

 

Azog downed another lager, slamming the glass back onto the table when he’d finished, muttering to himself. Gone was his livelihood, his only source of income. He’d been drowning in debt already all those years ago but as soon as the Durin’s had opened across town he knew things would get worse. And they had. Slowly, but surely, the customers had trickled away, flowing down to the ‘better’ bakery.

His ex-wife would never let him live it down, and he’d be hassled for more Child Support. Like she didn’t get enough already and he never got see his son anyway. He groaned, pressing his face into his hands.

Those fucking Durin’s. He had to do something about it.

He violently pushed the stood back, getting to his feet, and stalked towards the exit.

He’d get his revenge for this. He would. And he’d do it soon, too.

 

 

 


	21. Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longish chapter this time! Enjoy.

Bilbo woke to a heavy warmth settled onto his back, and found he was rather incapable of movement due to it. The sun had more than risen, so he frowned, lifting himself up as much as possible, trying to glance sleepily at the alarm clock on his bedside table through the hair that was hanging in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Thorin grumbled, arm tightening around his waist.

“Checking the time,” Bilbo replied. “It’s ten-thirty.”

“That’s nice,” he murmured in reply.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I _mean_ : it’s ten-thirty, shouldn’t you be at work?” Thorin was usually up before sunrise, moving to start the morning’s baking.

“Fili and Kili opened for me.”

“Good God,” Bilbo said now, aghast, sleep washing away from him entirely as  he lifted himself up more.

“They’ll be right.” Thorin answered with a chuckle. “Dwalin said he’d help, so did Bofur, and I think Nori will be trailing behind him, as he does.”

“Oh,” Bilbo relaxed. “That’s good. I don’t think it would end well if they were left to their own devices there.”

“All the pastries would burn.”

“They’d probably cause a small explosion.” Bilbo muttered, relaxing back down onto the pillow.

Thorin laughed. “They’d better not, or else I’ll kill them.”

“Mm.”

“So,” Thorin released him, rolling onto his back and stretching. Bilbo turned to watch him. “Coffee?” he looked good in the morning, Bilbo realised now, _very_ good: his hair loose and tangled, his face free of its usual frown. He looked so young, so relaxed. It was nice seeing him in such a way. Though Bilbo probably looked like some dreadful troll, as he usually did in the morning.

“I thought we agreed you’d make the coffee.” Bilbo closed his eyes. Thorin grumbled, but climbed off the bed and pulled on his jeans anyway, moving into the kitchen.

This was nice. He liked being in bed, resting in the morning while he heard Thorin potter about in the kitchen.

“You want to come out, or shall I wait on you in bed?” Bilbo chuckled, slipping from under the covers and grabbing his robe.

“I suppose I’ll come out,” he replied, stepping into the main room. “So,” he took a seat in the kitchen, watching Thorin move about, “no work today?”

“No.” Thorin answered. “I’m taking the day off.”

Bit of a strange thing to hear coming from a workaholic like Thorin. “That’s very unlike you.”

He shrugged. “I figure it’s about time I did it at least once. What do the kids say now? _Yolo_?”

“Don't you even dare," Bilbo warned now, repressing a laugh. "But I do agree, it certainly is time for you to take a break. After all, you’ve got other people to keep an eye on the place. What’s the worst that can happen, right?”

“Exactly,” he agreed, pressing a hot cup into Bilbo’s hands.

“This really _is_ good coffee.” Bilbo said on a sigh, taking a sip. “I don’t know why mine never tastes this good.”

“I’ve been making it for a while,” Thorin replied now, “I’ve had a long time to perfect it.”

“It’s the best I’ve ever had. In fact,” Bilbo teased, “it’s the only reason I even talk to you.”

Thorin snorted. “How kind of you,” he replied dryly.

 “Well,” Bilbo said with a grin, “relationships are based on honesty, so I’m being honest. And, speaking of honesty, I’m rather envious.”

Thorin raised one jet black eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I mean, really, you used the very same coffee that I always use, and for some reason why I make it, it tastes like burnt swill.”

“It’s a gift,” Thorin replied with a shrug. “You either have it or you don’t.”

“A little smug there,” Bilbo commented, making him chuckle.

“You’re allowed to be smug when you’re the best coffee maker in town.”

“I guess so,” Bilbo allowed, pressing the cup to his lips once more.  “What do you want to do today?”

“What I want to do today is really not PG rated, so let’s just skip the answer. You know it anyway.”

Bilbo’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’re awfully lucky it’s a Sunday,” he said now, “or else I wouldn’t be so keen to oblige you.”

Thorin laughed. “I have a question for you, to fill in the time, of course. It would be cruel of me to drag you back into bed without a proper breakfast, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“Why teaching?” Thorin asked him.

“Why not?” Bilbo gave a shrug. “I like kids, I like English, and those things seem to like me well enough in return. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what else _to_ do. I never had that passion most kids had. You know, some people are so certain what they want to do, I... I never had that. I just did what I liked.” He frowned now. “Do I not seem like a teacher?”

“Oh, no,” Thorin assured him gently with a smile, “you do. It’s a good choice, I was just curious.”

The rest of the day was spent pretty lazily, which Bilbo might have felt guilty about under normal circumstances, but he couldn’t find himself to this time.

“I’d better go back to the bakery,” Thorin ran a hand over his face that afternoon as they laid together in the bed, lazing about. “Check on the others, make sure everything’s well.”

“Mmm,” Bilbo murmured into Thorin’s shoulder, eyes still closed.

“You could come over- have some coffee.”

“You’re making me an addict.” Bilbo commented now. “At this rate I won’t need sleep for another week with all the caffiene I've been consuming.”

“Then show me how to make your famous cookies. Kili would like to see you before school starts as well. He's been saying Fili's your favourite.”

“So he's working today, even though he's sick?”

“Of course he is.” Thorin replied, dead-pan, as if it were obvious. “Fili's there so he has to be as well, as is the way with those boys. One doesn’t exist without the other.”  

Bilbo giggled. “I suppose I could come over, then,” he said now, stretching. Besides, they’d been inside all day, and a little bit of fresh air couldn’t hurt. “Show up Bombur’s baking skills and become famous throughout the town.”

Thorin laughed, nudging him from the bed so they could get dressed.

The walk was enjoyable enough until the smell of harsh smoke permeated the air and they rounded the corner to find a crowd gathering at the end of the road.

 _Oh, please, God, no_.

“What’s going on?” Thorin demanded, though Bilbo had no reply for him. The bright orange flames licked up from the sky, answering his question. “Fire,” he breathed now.  “ _Fire_!” they rushed towards the source, hearts in their throats, finding that it was, in fact, the bakery that was alight.

“Oh, my God,” Bilbo pressed a hand over his mouth in shock.

“Dwalin!” Thorin left Bilbo’s side, pushing through the crowd to find his friend near the officers. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I left to go and see Ori while I was on my afternoon break, and when I came back it was just lit up like a bloody torch,” he waves his hands up, following the path of the flames.

“Bilbo! _Bilbo_!” A hand grasped his shirtsleeve now, and he turned to find Kili, looking frantic.

“Kili? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Fili was upstairs, in the apartment. The phone rang, he went to answer it, and-” Kili broke off as Bilbo turned back to the building, glancing at the windows, looking for any sign of the other brother.

“And you’re sure he’s not in the crowd?”

“Certain. I’ve been looking for him since the police arrived.” Bilbo, unthinkingly, pushed Kili away and ran towards the bakery. “Stay there,” he called at Kili over his shoulder.

He pushed past the officers who were keeping people back, twisting sway from their grasps, and ran inside, ignoring the shouts that followed after him.

It was dreadful inside, all thick smoke and heat licking at his body. He couldn’t see much of the state of the front of the bakery, due to the fire and thick smoke that clouded his view. He ignored it as best he could, feeling his way into the back room and making his way to the stairs.

“Fili?!” he called for the boy, climbing up and pushing open the door. The second floor wasn’t as bad as the first, though it was still covered by flames. He kept to the walls that weren’t on fire, or caved in just yet, searching desperately for Fili.

"FIli!" he yelled now, standing very still, straining to hear something over the sound of the crumpling building.

“ _Bilbo_?!” It came from one of the doors over the other side of the room. The voice was muffled and quiet, but he heard it.

“You can’t get out?” Bilbo called, moving over towards it.

“I’m stuck!” he called desperately, and Bilbo pulled the door open to find him trapped under part of the wall. “I’m stuck, I can’t get out, I’m stuck-”

“Calm down,” Bilbo called to him, pulling bits of drywall off the pile. “I’m coming, just keep clam and breathe deeply.”  He could hear Fili obey, sucking in and breathing out noisily. “Are you hurt?”

“I think my wrist is broken.” Fili whined as Bilbo pulled away another chunk of wood to reveal part of his body. “It hurts when I try to move it.”

“Okay, try to stay still, I’m nearly there.”

The fire was closing in now, bearing heat town his neck, and his brow began to sweat. He could feel fire lick at his legs and back, and if he didn’t know it _was_ fire, he would have thought it was ice-cold water.

The pain shot through his entire body and he doubled over, trying to scramble away from the ever encroaching flames. He patted at his trousers, finding them alight now, and continued to dig for Fili.

He reached him as fast as he could, grasping hold of his good hand and pulling him out from underneath the rubble.

Fili clung to him, babbling incomprehensibly.

“You’re hurt,” he heard Fili saying now, as they attempted to get back to their feet. When he put pressure onto his legs he felt like they would fall out from underneath him, but he gritted through the pain, slinging Fili’s arm over his shoulder.

“Move, move!” they dragged each other through what was left of the top floor and down the stairs, which started to crumble underneath them. Bilbo sagged when they reached the front room, falling against the counter, and he fought a wave of blackness that washed over him while Fili dragged him to the front door.

It was strange to hear the jingle when it was pulled open, strange to hear something so welcoming and calm when fire was raging around them. But Bilbo wouldn’t think about that until later on.

When the cool afternoon air hit his face and he could suck fresh air into his lungs, he allowed the black to consume him, and he fell onto the pavement, the yells of the crowd the last thing he heard before he passed out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any errors in this, just point them out- I had a look through and fixed what I could see, but I sort of lost interest in editing so I just posted it.


	22. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Moonrose91, the Nazgul King.

The first thing he felt was an intense burning in his legs. Like fire and ice was embedding itself into his skin. He groaned, shifting, but if anything that exacerbated the feeling. He whimpered, feeling his face crumple in pain.

“Bilbo?” he opened his eyes to find Thorin hovering over him, concern evident on his face.

He groaned in reply, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

“What is that Godforsaken noise?” he groused, pressing his hands over his ears.

“I think it’s the machine beeping.” A second voice answered. Balin, he thought.

“Can we turn it off?” That was Kili.

“I don’t think they’d like us doing _that_.”  Ori.

“Why are there so many people in here?” Bilbo whined now.

“We were all really worried about you, Boggins! How are you, are you okay?”

“I’d be better if you weren’t kneeling on my arm, Kili.”

“Oh,” Kili scrambled off him, sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Fili,” Bilbo said now, struggling to get sit up. “Is Fili alright?”

“I’m fine, Boggins,” he heard Fili say now, and Thorin helped him up so he could see Fili at the end of the bed, waving one bandaged hand at him.

“So everyone’s okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Thorin assured him.

“We were just worried about you.” Kili added eagerly.

“Well, I’m fine...” he winced. “I think.”

“The doctor said you were burnt pretty badly. Said you’d mostly be alright, but you might have a bit of trouble walking from here on in.” He didn’t want to think about anything but his immediate discomfort just yet.

“I’m having enough trouble _sitting_.” He shifted uncomfortably. “But as long as no one was hurt...”

“Apart from you,” Balin corrected.

“Well, yes, but as long as no one _else_ was hurt, I think its fine.” He turned to Thorin now. “Did they find who did it?” What he really meant was: _Did they find Azog?_ Obviously.

Thorin seemed to understand what he was asking. “Azog’s wasn’t at his house,” he informed Bilbo now. “Nor was he at any of the pubs. He’s suddenly become rather unreachable.”

“But they’ll find them.” Dwalin gave Bilbo a pat on the leg, which made the both of them wince. “Sorry,” he muttered, putting his hands up. “Didn’t mean to...”

Bilbo assured him it was fine and relaxed back into the bed as much as he could, trying to ease the pain rushing through his body.

Thankfully, as he found out later, he wasn’t in too bad a shape, all things considered. He had a few minor burns along his torso and chest, but they would heal quickly without scarring, in most cases anyway. His legs were the trouble.

They were covered in pressure bandages right now, and even the slightest movement caused Bilbo to writhe in pain. The flames had burnt all the way down to his... hypodermis sub-something-or-rather, the doctor had said, and then even further to the bone. So the damage was great indeed.

In fact, he’d been told it was lucky the limb hadn’t needed to be removed, like many fourth-degree burns did. But it had been very close. He’d have trouble walking for the rest of his life, not to mention the hospital had the possibility of becoming his second home until he was properly recovered.

 _Great_.

 

* * *

 

Time passed slowly, but he received no shortage of visitors and gifts.

Thorin was almost constantly by his side, until security had to all but drag him away at the end of visiting hours. And when Thorin couldn’t make it, Fili and Kili were often on either side of him, Kili giving him things the class had made for him, and telling him about how horrible the substitute was and how he hoped Bilbo got better soon so they didn’t have to do so much homework anymore.

He also made mention that the substitute had caught Gimli and Legolas making out in one of the storage closets and had proceeded to call both parents to have a little conversation about it.

Which had obviously went terrific.

But one day, Kili had come in by himself, looking cautious and more than a little morose. Bilbo was going to scold him for skipping school (because he was certainly supposed to be there), but Kili’s expression made Bilbo’s words fall short.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” Kili muttered now, still looking at his feet.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Bilbo instantly became weary. “What for? What did you do now?”

“I mean, about the... the fire.”

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something you should tell me, Kili?” His mind was brimming with conclusions, and quickly jumping to them, though he knew he shouldn't have. Had Kili caused the fire?

“It’s my fault,” Kili looked up at him briefly, eyes flickering back down to the floor. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.”

“Sit down, Kili.” Bilbo said gently, all suspicions slipping from his mind. Kili was the type to feel unnecessarily guilty about things.  “Are you apologising for telling me Fili was in the house?”

Kili nodded sullenly, shuffling over and taking the seat beside Bilbo’s bed. Bilbo held his hand, offering comfort.

“There is no need to apologise for that, Kili.”

“So you... I mean, you don’t hate me, do you, Bilbo?” Kili asked now, tears in his eyes.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you went in because of me, and then you got hurt, and you could have died and it would have been my fault, and-”

“Hey,” Bilbo grabbed his shoulder, trying to calm the now-babbling boy. “Don’t you think that, _ever_. Okay? I chose to go inside myself, and I got your brother out, and we’re both alright, aren’t we?’ Kili nodded slowly. “So there’s no need for that.” Bilbo paused before speaking again. “Kili,” he said gently. “You keep blaming yourself for things that you can’t control, for things that aren’t your fault.”

“But it was my fault,” Kili said bitterly, and Bilbo had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about this.

“No, it wasn’t.” Bilbo replied. “You didn’t deliberately do something while being aware of what would happen. You’re not psychic, Kili, you’re expecting more from yourself than anyone ever should. It was _not your fault_.”

“I was the one who-”

“No.” Bilbo said flatly, cutting him off.

“But I-”

“No, Kili. This is not your fault, at all, none of this is. And that wasn’t either,” he pointed at him, knowing what he was thinking. “Tell me it wasn’t your fault.”

“Bilbo...”

“Tell me,” he demanded.

Kili sniffled. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Again.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Kili repeated.

“You didn’t start that fire, you didn’t make me go into the bakery, you are not responsible. The only person responsible for that happened is Azog, and if he’s ever found he’ll be punished for it. And you’re not Azog, are you?”

Kili shook his head, hair falling in his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Good. Please try not to feel so guilty, Kili,” he squeezed his hand as he spoke. “These things aren’t your fault. They’re really not.”

They sat like that for a while, before Bilbo finally decided it was best to scold him and get him back to school.

It was a few harrowing weeks before they discharged him, and he was able to limp out of his room, leaning heavily against Thorin.

They went to his apartment, where the others were waiting to welcome him home, and they were bombarded by noise when they walked through the front door before Bilbo was swamped by crushing hugs and well-wishes.

Bilbo had tried to move on his own to his favourite chair across the room, but instead ended up wincing and grasping hold of the first thing he could, which was Bofur’s arm, before shuffling over to the wall.

“I’ll just have to move very slowly.” Bilbo said, leaning heavily against the wall in pain.

“Well, I, uh, got you a gift for that.” Bofur waved Nori over, who moved his hands from behind his back to reveal an expertly carved walking stick.

“Oh,” It was positively _lovely_.

“I made it myself.” Bofur told him proudly now, taking it from Nori and handing it over. Bilbo's fingers trailed over the carvings on the side, looking at the creation in awe. “I thought you might like something to help you walk- and I thought it would be silly if we just got you one of those cheap, plastic ones.”

“That’s very lovely, thank you, Bofur.” Bilbo replied gently now. “I appreciate it.” Bofur smiled brightly, and Bilbo watched with his own small smile as Nori stared at him. And of course that smile widened in amusement when he saw Bombur frowning at them from across the room.

“It’s nice to be home finally,” he said with a smile.

 

 


	23. Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for HelloMrJones, who wanted a little Fili/Kili in reaction to the fire.

“I’m glad everyone’s okay.” Fili was saying as he sat on Kili’s bed, flipping through a book. Kili just watched him, eyes brimming with closed-in emotion. “Even if the bakery’s gone now, its better we’re all okay,” a brief pause, then: “Kili?”

“I was just thinking,” Kili said in reply, reaching out and brushing some hair from Fili’s face. “About the fire...”

“This isn’t you blaming yourself about Bilbo again, is it? Because I have to say, that-” Kili leaned forward; pressing his lips to his brother’s to cut his sentence off before he could finish it.

“I was thinking about you, actually.”

Fili’s shoulders sagged a little. “You needn’t worry about me, Kili.” He insisted now. “I’m fine.” He threw his arms wide, though was sure to be careful with his injured one. “You know I am.”

“I do. But it felt too close to...” he shook his head, looking down, and grasped the elder’s hand. “After mum and dad, I don’t think I could stand losing anyone else.”

Fili’s face softened. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said now, smile spreading across his face, “you big dummy.”

The jesting words were what did it, and Kili grabbed his brother’s shoulders, pushing him onto the bed, crawling on top of him and pressing their lips together in desperation.

“Kili!” Fili squeaked in shock, though he certainly made no move to stop the other.

“Hush,” Kili muttered through their lips, brow furrowing. “Uncle Frerin will hear you.” He kissed him softly, lips pliant and willing, molding against each other. Then Kili pulled away and rested his head against Fili’s chest, breathing in deeply.

“I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.” Kili murmured into his shoulder now.

“I know _that_ ,” Fili replied, fingers knotting themselves into the younger’s hair.

“I keep having nightmares about it- about the fire. About Bilbo rushing in and neither of you coming out.” Fili hushed his brother, soothing him by running his fingers through his thick, unruly locks.

“Hush now,” he said, pulling him up so their foreheads could rest together. “I’m fine, and Bilbo’s fine, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now, try to get some sleep. Okay?”

Kili huffed, falling onto the mattress beside his brother. “Fine,” he agreed, a little begrudging. “But if I kick you off the bed while I sleep, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Fili chuckled, fingers entwining with Kili’s.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” he assured his brother now, smiling softly.

* * *

Ori sat at their dining table, fumbling over his latest pair of gloves and a hot pot of tea. Dwalin sat across the table from him, watching as his hands deftly sliding over the knitting needles, soft, comforting clinks filling the air.

“What if he tries to hurt one of us?” he was far gone by now, but Dwalin knew Ori’s fears were perfectly reasonable. He glanced up from Ori’s nimble fingers to the frown on his face and sighed.

“He won’t dare.” Dwalin assured his boyfriend now. “I’ll break his neck if he tries.” Ori looked up, eyes widening a little in shock, before he offered a small smile to him.

“If you’re sure...” Ori trailed off.

“I’m certain. No one’s stupid enough to invoke the wrath of the Durin family and then stick around. The bastard is long gone.” Much to Dwalin’s delight, Ori relaxed a little.

“Yes, yes of course.” He nodded, seeming sure now. “You’re right.” He returned to his knitting. “It’s just a little worrying,” he mumbled now, frowning in concentration as he cast off. “That someone can just do something like that with little more than a second thought. Just because they’re angry.”

“People do stupid things when they’re angry.” Dwalin informed him gently.

“Hardly,” Ori scoffed now, looking unbearably cute. “When I’m mad, I make cake, or punch a pillow. I don’t go round setting fire to people’s _stores_.”

Dwalin chuckled. “Not everyone is as nice as you,” he replied, and watched as Ori rolled his eyes, acting annoyed, but flushed in delight nonetheless. “Now,” Dwalin lifted up a poorly, half-made scarf, “are you going to show me what I should do now, or what?” Ori laughed and set his own knitting down. “It’s ugly,” he sighed, looking at it now.

“I think it’s lovely.” Ori told him gently, taking it from his hands. “You just need to practice, is all.”

Dwalin grumbled. He wasn’t made for knitting. He liked great displays of strength... caveman things, Ori had called them. But he didn’t mind trying. For Ori, of course. And if through all the infuriation and hopeless attempts he _did_ get a little enjoyment out of it? Well, no one was the wiser.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad Bilbo liked my cane.” Bofur said now, stretching against Nori in bed.

“You stayed up for three days to make it, so if he hadn’t of liked it I would have slapped him across the face with it.”

Bofur smiled softly. “I think he’s the kind of person who would have loved it even if I’d just given him a branch to use.”

Nori chuckled. “Probably, yeah,” he agreed.

“I have to leave early tomorrow,” Bofur added, sounding sleepy. “Bombur’s going to help Thorin talk to the insurance people and see what we can do, so I’m looking after Bifur.” Nori wanted to complain, but didn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Bifur needed the help, of course he did. But Bofur was constantly caring for him, and he was always so _tired_. Nori ran a hand through Bofur’s hair now.

He ought to do something nice for Bofur to cheer him up after looking after Bifur tomorrow. But he didn’t know what.

 

 


	24. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this wasn't as fast to update my the other fics. I had a bit of trouble with the ending of this chapter.

 “I always liked baking,” Bilbo said now, kneading at the dough Thorin had given him. They’d been at it all day, cooking in his kitchen, making one hell of a mess.

“Why not do it more often if you love it?” Thorin asked him with a frown, looking over at Bilbo to where he sat at the table. He couldn’t stand like Thorin could, the strain on his legs hurt too much.

Bilbo took some time to reply, eventually giving a small shrug. “Baking’s the sort of thing that has memories, you know? You remember the first time you were taught to make a cake, or cookies. I just... I don’t know- it’s not that I don’t like to remember,” he insisted. “They are lovely memories. But they... hurt. So I just don’t bake very often.”

Thorin’s face softened at the words. “Then we should make some new memories,” came the simple reply. “Good ones, obviously,” he added. “I don’t think we need any more fiascos to put you off baking forever.” Bilbo glanced up at Thorin once more, smiling at the sight of flour smeared over his cheek, and dough caked through his hands. He’d gotten some colouring on his shirt, too.

He was a mess, though Bilbo liked Thorin best when he was a mess. He was always so relaxed when they did this. Bilbo understood that.

There was something to be said about pummelling a poor bit of dough until your arms felt like jelly It seemed to calm even the angriest person. He wondered a little dryly why it hadn't worked with Azog.

“You excited?” Thorin asked now, setting a tray of cupcakes into the oven. Bilbo didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“I am,” he replied with a smile. “I know Kili is as well. He’s desperate to finally get rid of that substitute.”

“You’re telling me,” Thorin groused in reply. “I got a call from the principal a few days ago saying that Kili had managed to put the gardeners egg salad lunch all through the poor man’s bag.” Bilbo, bless him, couldn’t help it, He burst into a fit of giggles.

“That must have been terrible,” he only just managed the words through his paroxysms.

“Yes, well, it’s hard to get him to stop when you keep laughing at his jokes.”

“I can’t help it,” Bilbo insisted now.

“It’s also hard to get him to stop when I give him a punishment,” Thorin continued now, “and Frerin buys him a pizza to celebrate another prank gone well.” Bilbo continued laughing. “It’s not funny, Bilbo.” Thorin scolded, but his frown quickly melted away into a smile. “Stop that, or I’ll be forced to stop it for you.”

“What are you going to do, throw flour at me?”

“I just might,” Thorin grabbed a fistful of it and threw it across the room, landing it right in the middle of Bilbo’s face, making him splutter.

“That was hardly necessary,” Bilbo said now, trying to shake all the flour out of his hair as Thorin chuckled at him. He grabbed a great big glob of dough and threw it at him, getting it all through his hair and down his face. “But I do feel that _that_ was necessary.”

“You’re in trouble now.”

“That is not fair,” Bilbo pointed at Thorin as he stalked towards him.  “I can’t run away.”

“Good.”

Bilbo squealed as Thorin rubbed flour all through his hair and over his shirt. He wouldn’t have stopped, either, had there not been a heavy knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Thorin heaved a sigh and pulled himself away, leaving Bilbo to try and compose himself, which was really a waste of time.

“Oh! Hello, Nori.” Bilbo gave him a smile as he walked in. “Ignore the mess. What can I do for you?" Nori was eyeing the room like a bomb had hit the place, though that statement was probably quite fitting.

“I just, uh, wondered if I could have a moment with you? I just need to ask you something.” Thorin seemed suspicious, but Bilbo smiled and gestured for him to sit. “Maybe you should go and get some more supplies, Thorin,” Bilbo suggested now. “We’re almost out of flour,” he informed him dryly, “though I can’t imagine how that happened.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and reached for his coat, sliding it on and patting as much flour out of his hair that he could. Bilbo waited until the door was shut before turning to Nori.

“Tea, Nori?”

“Ah, well, yes, thank you.” Bilbo struggled to his feet, reaching for his cane. “I could do it, if you’d like?” Nori queried.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Besides, I’m up already; it’d be a waste if I were to sit down again.” He moved into the kitchen, grabbing two clean cups. “So what did you need?”

“Advice, actually,” Nori told him now.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. It’s, uh, about Bofur, you see.” Bilbo gave an acknowledging hum, turning on the kettle. “He works so hard with Bifur and all, I wanted to do something for him, but I’m not sure what.” Bilbo smiled as Nori rambled on, hardly listening. _How cute_. Nori had certainly never done anything like that for anyone else before. At least, Bilbo had been told as much.

“Well, what does Bofur like?” he asked now, leaning against the counter for support. “What does he do to relax, or calm down?”

“Well, he’s very fond of whittling. But you already know that,” Nori gestured to Bilbo’s staff with a smile.

“I do, yes,” Bilbo agreed. “What else?”

“I’m not really sure...” his brow furrowed and he sat there in concentration until Bilbo limped back with their teas.

“Why don’t you make him dinner?” Bilbo suggested now, setting the cups on the table before thankfully sinking back into his chair.

“Dinner?” Nori repeated.

“Yeah, after a long day it’s nice to have someone make dinner for you. I think he’d appreciate that.”

“You think?”

Bilbo nodded. “Of course,” he informed him, warming his hands on his mug. “Trust me.”

Thorin showed up again soon after, and Nori took his leave, seemingly in a much better mood than when he arrived. Thorin asked, and Bilbo just informed him it was to do with Bofur.

“Are you playing matchmaker?” he asked him.

“I don’t need to play matchmaker.” Bilbo replied haughtily. “They’re already together so it doesn’t count.”

“No, I suppose not.” Thorin agreed now. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. When I get the new bakery up and running, I was wondering if you’d let me exploit your cookie-making skills and sell them.”

“You want to sell my cookies?”

“I do.” Thorin nodded.

“What about Bombur?”

“I’ve spoken to him about it and he’s willing to relinquish his title of Cookie Master. So long as you don’t try to take him on for his title of Cake Master.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dare try.” Bilbo replied. “I won’t be able to do it myself,” he continued now. “Getting to and from work is going to be hard enough...”

“I’ll help you,” Thorin assured him. “So will the others.”

Bilbo relaxed a little. “Of course you will,” he said with a smile.

 

 


	25. Normality Returning

The class cheered when he entered that morning, throwing their hands up in enthusiasm.  Bilbo laughed, leaning heavily on his cane, and let Kili jump up and help him to his seat.

“Thank you for the warm welcome back.” He said once he was seated. “Obviously you’re going to have to behave, because I’m not really able to chase you all around anymore.” A chuckle ran through the room. “And I know you’d all like to celebrate, but we’ve got a bit of work to get through first, then we can break out of vodka, okay?” There was a bit of whining, but they went to work without much fuss. He stretched his legs out, wincing, and set to work marking the stack of assessments that had piled up while he was recovering.

After what seemed like a very long time, mainly because of the stiffness in his legs, he threw his pen down and declared that the rest could be done for homework before getting to his feet again and moving towards the whiteboard. “Information on your upcoming assignment,” he said now, grabbing the marker and writing on the board.

The rest of the day passed painfully slow, and by the time school had finished, he was ready to collapse. Thorin was waiting for him out the front with the car, and Bilbo slid into the passenger’s side with a thankful groan. When Thorin didn’t start the car right away he looked over at him in question, tensing at his expression.

“What is it?”

“They got Azog.”

“Oh,” Bilbo slowly smiled. “Oh.” He paused now, considering Thorin’s look. “Is that not a good thing?”

“It is,” he sighed eventually, shoulders sagging. “I suppose I’m just mad.”

“That it took so long to get him?” Bilbo wondered.

Thorin shook his head. “That it happened in the first place.”

“Well, we can’t help that. We just need to move on with things and be optimistic. Yes, _optimistic_ ,” he repeated when Thorin rolled his eyes. “I know you hate that word, but it’s true.”

“Perhaps,” Thorin relented after a slight pause, starting the car. “I could always try.”

Bilbo smiled. “You’re damn right you could. Now let’s get home. I need a nice cup of tea and some rest.”

 

* * *

 

Bofur had literally fallen on the floor with laughter, the noise booming across the room, bouncing off the walls.

“Enough of that,” Nori had his hands on his hips, and was looking down at him scoldingly. “I don’t know what happened.” He frowned now. “It was fine when I checked it last.”

Bofur couldn’t stop laughing. His side were splitting and he was gasping for air, but it was just _too funny_.

“Oh, screw you.” Nori flopped down on the chair, waving it off, his face falling into dejection.

“I’m sorry,” Bofur gasped, managing to get up to his knees. “I’m sorry; it was really a very nice idea, Nori.” He crawled over to where Nori sat, moving between his legs and pressing his hands to his face. “Thank you for making dinner for me.” He told him very softly. “Even if you did set it on fire.”

Nori rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Bofur leaned up and pressed his lips softly against Nori’s. “It was very sweet of you.” He pulled away and grinned. “Come on,” he said now. “Let’s order pizza and watch Doctor Who.” Nori brightened marginally at that.

“Now _that_ sounds like a good idea.”

 

* * *

 

“Good news.” Ori flopped down beside Dwalin on the sofa now, handing him a cider.

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“Thorin got the go-ahead from the bank. He’s going o start rebuilding the bakery.”

“Ah,” Dwalin smiled crookedly now. “That’s nice.”

“It is.” Ori agreed. “ _And_ ,” he snuggled closer, “I finally finished my book, so I’ve got all the time in the world spare now.”

Dwalin hummed, twisting around and wrapping his arms around Ori’s waist.

“Then why are we wasting time talking?”

Ori broke into laughter when Dwalin tackled him to the sofa.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say that I'm not really sure how many more chapters I'll be doing, it sort of seems to be closing, so if you have anything you'd like me to add in the next few chapters give me a buzz and I'll add them before I finish up.


	26. Can't Have One Without The Other

Ori was late.

Which was frankly quite annoying.

Slightly because he was never late, he loathed tardiness, but more mainly because Dwalin had something important planned, and the longer Ori took the more nervous he became.

Dwalin paced around the kitchen now, hands behind his back, frown on his face, muttering to himself as if that could ease his anxiousness.  It wasn’t working very well, he had to say.

He wanted to tell himself it was ridiculous, to scold himself, but he couldn’t. This was an important thing, and his usual composure had gone off somewhere out of his reach.

He didn’t have to wait too long, however, for Ori to return home.

“You’re later than usual.” He managed to keep his words nonchalant as he watched Ori throw the keys on the table.

“Bofur and Nori were looking after Bifur and I was helping out.” He rolled his shoulders. “I stayed longer than I thought I would. My phone was dead, so I couldn't tell you. You didn’t eat without me, did you?”

“What?” Dwalin frowned now.

Ori looked at him like he was being needlessly thick. “It’s pizza night, Dwalin.” He told him with a smile, which flickered slightly and was replaced with a confused gaze. “Did you not order yet?”

 _Oh, crap._ He’d forgotten completely about that.

“I was waiting for you,” he said quickly, supposing that was the best excuse. “Didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I always get the same thing, you know that.” Ori cocked his head. “Are you feeling alright?”

Dwalin’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, yeah,” he ran a hand over his face. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Well, I’ll call the place, shall I? Get our dinner.”

 “Sure, yeah,” he handed Ori the phone.

He fiddled with his pockets while he watched Ori order, smiling at the banal routine of it all. He should just do it. Right now. Just do it and get it over with. Well, as soon as Ori was off the phone. This wasn’t the best thing to do while he was ordering pizza.

So he stalked up behind Ori as he hung the phone up. He twisted to speak to him and jumped, surprised by Dwalin's proximity.

“Dwalin?” he got down on his knees as Ori spoke, wincing as pressure was placed on his weaker leg that he’d injured while serving in the army years ago. He should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. “What’s wrong with you?” Ori frowned down at him.

“What do you mean?” he wondered.

“You’re on the ground," Ori told him. "Is something wrong?”

Very clearly not getting it, then. Most people would have understood by now.

“Ori,” Dwalin sighed now, “I’m proposing to you.”

Ori’s eyes widened. “ _What_?”

Dwalin heaved another sigh. “Why else does someone get on their knees?” Well, apart from the usual, of course.

“Well, I thought your leg might be giving you trouble again.”

“It’s not,” Dwalin assured him. “I know I should say something romantic or something, but I’m not very good at that. So I’m just asking you out-rightly.”

“Oh,” Ori, still shocked, fell into silence, simply staring down at him.

Dwalin huffed in impatience. “Ori,” he prodded, “you’re supposed to give me some form of an answer.”

“Oh!” he put his hands to his face, as if just realising. “Yes, yes!” Dwalin wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Ori had said no. He didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he laughed and reached up, cupping Ori’s face in his hands and pulling him down for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

“You’re cookies are a hit.” Thorin told him as he sat in the back room to the newly built bakery, frowning over papers he had to mark. "Selling like hotcakes."

“Are they?” Bilbo asked as Thorin pressed a kiss to his forehead. “That's nice. How’s Bombur doing?”

“He’s coping the only way he knows how,” Thorin replied simply, “by eating everything.”

“So long as he’s paying,” Bilbo remarked now, and Thorin chuckled.

“How’re your legs?”

Bilbo frowned, considering it as he wriggled one. “They’re alright,” he replied eventually. “A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

He was just glad he didn’t have to walk home from the school today. He’d tried it last week and it hadn’t worked very well. He'd needed up just sitting on the side of the road and calling Bofur for help, because he didn't want to bother Thorin again, who had been tirelessly chaperoning him to and from work each day, which had to be frustrating, though he'd never once complained.

So thankfully enough, Thorin didn't seem to mind, and let Bilbo occasionally use him as a leaning post as well as a companion.

“And how are you?" he asked him now. "Excited about Kili?”

He knew Kili was certainly excited, driving everyone up the wall.

“I’m not really sure,” Thorin admitted, checking the bread in the ovens across the room with a considering frown. “It’s wonderful that he’s graduating, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with the two of them being here together full time.”

“Well, you can’t have one without the other.” Bilbo informed him. Thorin rolled his eyes.

“I suppose so,” he agreed. “So long as they don’t set fire to anything. Once is more than enough for me.”

Bilbo laughed at him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a few of you wanted people finding out about Fili and Kili, and I will do that- sometime, when I finally get around to it.


End file.
